Deconstruction

[exilejeloris]

Location: J'lor and Vellath's Weyr
Time: Day 9, Month 4, Turn 3
Players: J'lor, E'sere, Vellath
Scene: E'sere stops by to continue the discussion had during their last visit.



The dry season is, after the wet one, simply a relief. Soon, it will be hot. Soon it will feel like an oven some days and those who complained of the wet will now shift and bemoan the dry. But in the early dry season, there is only pleasure in the warmth, the sun, the change. J'lor is normally more productive, but this late afternoon finds him out on his ledge, leaning up against Vellath's dark blue flank, hides resting on his chest, legs splayed out before him, eyes closed.

Since his last talk with J'lor--or perhaps since his split from Aivey, it's hard to know which--E'sere has been a very diligent worker indeed, putting as much or more labor into his work than any islander, and often the more demanding chores as well. It's probably this recent devotion to his work that lets him feel free enough to end his day earlier than usual, and to head toward J'lor's ledge. He makes the climb up carefully, with growing familiarity to the path, and finally emerges to straighten on the ledge itself. He pauses there, though, eyeing J'lor stretched out and then glancing downward as though having second thoughts. In the end, though, he settles for politely clearing his throat to rouse the man.

For a man so oblivious when conscious, J'lor is very attentive when asleep. The throat-clearing is all that's needed to have the bluerider's eyes flicking open and blinking. He draws air in slowly through his nose and pushes himself up into a sit, spine popping as he does so. He allows a faint a muted groan for the protest of his bones. "E'sere," J'lor offers. "Good..." a pause to glance out to the horizon and assess the placement of the sun, "...afternoon."

"J'lor," E'sere offers, shifting his weight slightly where he stands at the edge of the ledge. "I didn't meant to disturb you while you were asleep. I'm sorry. Should I come back later, and leave you to enjoy your sun while it lasts?" He tilts his head slightly, offering a smile as he glances briefly out at the view himself.

There is a faint smile as J'lor gets his name instead of a title. "No, no. Truth be told, I didn't mean to -be- asleep, so I suppose I should thank you, E'sere. And the sun, once she starts shining, doesn't stop for months. Sit. What's on your mind?"

"Yes, but it rarely shines this nicely," E'sere notes, with a brief nod toward it. He does, though, move to seat himself near the bluerider, stretching his own legs out in front of him comfortably. "I had thought we might pick up our discussion where we left off last time?" he suggests once he's well-situated, glancing from the view back to J'lor, interested. "You asked me to watch the people here--Nera, Cassiel--to figure out why... people respect them."

"I did," J'lor agrees, turning his head to watch as E'sere settles beside him, "and it sounds as if you've kept yourself busier as of late. Since last we spoke. What is it that you found?" The hides resting on his chest are gathered up and set aside.

A half-smile and a shrug brush off his increased activities, and E'sere chooses instead to focus on the latter question, though his answer is slow in coming. "I thought," he begins, "that they respected Nera because of her position. She controls the stores. She assigns chores. She controls them as much as Derek does, really--perhaps moreso, in that her area is our day-to-day lives." Pause. "But if you ask people why they respect Nera, they don't tell you what she does," he admits. "They tell you who she /is/."

"Ahhh..." says J'lor quietly with a small nod and a slightly less-small smile. "What do you draw from that, then?"

E'sere's hesitation is more pronounced now, as if he doesn't quite understand this answer, or doesn't know how to put it into words. "That she acts in ways they consider respectable," he finally says dubiously. "Kind, helpful, fair.... That's what they see in her, and that's why they respect her--not because she has that authority over them."

"Do you suppose, then, that even if Nera did not control the stores, she would still have the island's respect?" is the bluerider's next inquiry.

E'sere pauses another moment, then nods. "I... suppose so," he answers. "As you still do, she would, too."

"Hmm," is J'lor's soft reply as his own name is brought into the mix. "I suppose they do, for better or for worse," the bluerider concedes. "In some ways, we are not so different from those who live on the mainland. Have you never encountered anyone that you truly and genuinely respected, E'sere?"

A frown settles across E'sere's mouth at that question, and he furrows his brows thoughtfully. Finally, he shakes his head slightly, a no, though he offers up, guess-like, "Ganathon, perhaps? Once, a long time ago. But--" he glances down, frown deepening "--he was my Weyrleader; I'm not sure it's the same thing at all."

"If you do not know, E'sere, then it is not the same thing. You would know, if you admired someone. You would know as sure as you'd know if you were standing in water or on sand. It's not a think you can mistake." J'lor frowns, shaking his head. "What are they doing over there, that bronzriding sons of weyrwomen come to me, knowing no one admirable and finding confusion in the idea that hard work, fairness, and kindness are worthwhile traits?"

E'sere is still glancing downward, frowning, setting teeth to his bottom lip. He asks finally, "Do you think any of them are worthy of respect?"

"Who? Those on the mainland? Weyrwomen? Bronzeriders?" J'lor cants his head to the side, one brow arching.

"Yes," affirms E'sere, nodding once and looking up. "Isn't that why you--did what you did? Because none of them had it right?"

"I did what I did because society had it wrong. How we all judged individuals was...is...wrong," J'lor explains. "That does not mean all bronzeriders are devoid of leadership skills, anymore than it means all greenriders lack them. The point is, I wish for the same reasons that Nera is respected here to be the reasons people are respected everywhere. Who you are, what you do, matters more. Or. It should."

Intently, E'sere studies J'lor. Then: "That's why you don't respect me."

"I've watched you as well, E'sere. You are not the only one who can observe others and learn." The bluerider turns away to peer up at the clear sky. "You are so many different things to so many people, that in the end, I do not believe you are any of them at all. You plot to kill a man and a woman who you have never seen, save as rivals, for reasons that have nothing to do with them and everything to do with your own wishes. You hurt and attacked your own people in order to gain leadership over them. You would, I think, do it again if given the chance. Tell me, E'sere," he turns back to regard the younger man, "what, in all of that, am I meant to respect?"

On E'sere's part, silence, of the sort that seems to stretch forever between them, as he looks to J'lor, and finally to the sky himself, where his gaze stays, though his eyes don't quite seem to really see it. He admits at length, "I don't know."

"Then throw it away," J'lor offers softly, "and try it anew. You are not meant to be anything here. You are not seen as anyone save who you offer to be. Be something else."

E'sere takes a deep breath, rakes a hand back through his hair. He cuts his eyes briefly sideways for a study of J'lor. "I only know how to act something," he says then, shaking his head barely. "Not to be it."

"Then you must stop acting," J'lor informs him with a small shrug. "And discover what you've been hiding underneath all the layers of what you wish us to see."

E'sere remains quiet, subdued another moment, before he glances slyly sideways at J'lor again. "You make everything sound so easy," he remarks, with a wry half-smile.

"Because very little is ever as hard as well tell ourselves it is," the bluerider notes, smiling faintly. "We frighten ourselves. And we fall. Tell me something. What do you ask yourself, before you do things? When you are unsure what to say next or do next. What do you think, before you respond?"

"They always did say," E'sere notes wistfully, smiling, "the greatest thing in life is sincerity--once you learn to fake that, you've got it made." He shakes his head, lips pursing again for a second. "What am I trying to accomplish, and what do I need to do to do that. How will this action get me closer to the goal," he answers.

The soft smile tips over into a rumbling chuckle. "Then let's find you some new questions to ask, and we'll see where that gets you. What do you think?" The bluerider waits. "Or perhaps, if you are faking sincerity, I am only one more step in getting you closer to your goal." A shrug.

E'sere, still half-smiling, glances downward. "True sincerity has never been a very highly valued quality in the world I've lived in," he admits. "It makes one too vulnerable. But sometimes it's more useful than a lie, too. My goal here--" he pauses, looks up with another wry smile "--my goal is to figure out where I am, what I'm doing here, where I go next. And... you are a step toward that."

"That is a goal I do not mind being a part of," J'lor notes with a small smile. "Though I suggest discovering who you are, before you begin worrying about where."

"The where is easier," retorts E'sere, grimacing. "And less frustrating and painful."

"Yes, but you cannot find it without the other. Or if you do, you may discover, too late, it wasn't where you wished to go after all." The bluerider settles his hands on his stomach.

E'sere nods reluctantly, frowning still. He asks after a moment, looking curiously to J'lor, "How do you know all this?"

At this question, J'lor only laugh once. Sharp, eyes bright, expression bemused. "E'sere, do you suppose a man who impresses a blue dragon at fifteen turns comes to lead a people towards an entirely different way of life with entirely divergent values from the ones he's been born into without a considerable amount of soul-searching and second guessing? You lack a sense of self, man, but you are in good company. Or, much company, at least."

E’sere has to smile himself at that laugh, his downward gaze sheepish. "I suppose you're right about that, too," he admits, nodding once, then fixing J'lor with another glance. "Much company, hmm? I suppose that's comforting, really. Did you... How /did/ you get started doing this? If you don't mind my asking?"

The bluerider hefts himself a bit more upright, his living prop not bothering to even open an eye as his rider flops back against his hide. "Wing formations, actually," J'lor confesses, reaching a hand back to rub his neck. "If you can believe it. It sort of spiraled out from there."

"Wing formations," repeats E'sere, brows arching. "That... seems a very innocent thing, to lead to all this." He nods toward the view of land just visible past the ledge. "It spiraled indeed."

"It was complicated. I was young." J'lor smiles wryly at the recollection. "Very young." He shifts one leg so the foot is flat on the ground, knee raised, and leans forward to drape one arm over it. "I didn't like the way we were training for thread. It seemed too...methodical. The way we had it fall too predictable. What we were doing didn't match what I was reading in the old records about the way it fell. So, I told my wingleader. He said a sixteen-turn-old bluerider wasn't going to know anything more about thread than the wingleaders and I'd do best to quit whining. But I had ideas. So I wrote up a few new formations and I brought them to the weyrleader. B'sano." The bluerider winces slightly at the name, looking down at his lifted knee.

"B'sano," repeats E'sere, nodding once and sitting up a little straighter. "I remember him. The formations that we use now--they work. We've had better success than the 'Reaches, to be sure, and while the 'Reaches had, I think, more injuries than most Weyrs, probably thanks to the situation on the ground--" he has the grace to glance at his feet again, sheepish for his part in that "--we didn't do too shabbily, I thought."

"I wondered how the Weyrs were faring. We were...well, not much news made it even before thread. But. It's a strange comfort to be assured all six are still standing." J'lor chuckles softly. "The burn of it was B'sano used my formations. He just attributed them to other riders. Bronzes, mostly. A few browns." There is another shrug.

"Well. It's... something?" suggests E'sere, though skeptical himself. "At least he was willing to consider the ideas, for the good of the Weyr? I didn't know B'sano well--only passing meetings from when I was younger on up--but." A shrug, halfhearted. He admits, "I would have wanted my name on them, too."

"I was an idiot," J'lor sighs. "I still am, I suppose, but moreso then. I saw a wing practicing something I'd designed and came to B'sano asking him about. He told me another rider had come up with the idea before I had. Do you know...for a turn and change, that happened. I brought formations, and some bronzerider somehow managed to beat me to them. And I believed it." He smiles ruefully and shakes his head. "Do you ever...there was one I heard went to a weyr council. The one that has greens on either side and browns in the middle and they between to swapped places once the A wings eases up the heaviest parts of the fall. Did it ever...did the other weyrs use it?"

"You're... Well." E'sere grins, almost teasing. "You're guileless. You always do what you believe is right, and you believe others will do likewise. It's... kind of cute, really. Refreshing. I don't think anyone back there, or at least no one with any title better--higher than," he corrects himself, "cook or laundress is foolish enough to do so. Those sorts of people tend to become disillusioned quickly; I don't know how you don't." His shoulders start to lift, but the shrug is aborted in favor of frowning thoughtfully. "I... can't say that we did at High Reaches," he says with a shake of his head, "but I can't vouch for the other Weyrs, either. I was not, obviously, part of Weyr Council."

"Cute. Guileless. Foolish. Oh dear. It's a bother, I think, when one realizes how very insulting the truth can be. I..." J'lor looks back down at his feet. "Other people shielded me, I think. They let me see what I wanted. Or I let myself. Sometimes, I wish I'd been a bit -less- trusting, all in all."

"You'd do it the same again," E'sere differs with a shake of his head, a half-smile. "I think it's more our failures that define us than our successes. And few have failed quite so spectacularly as us."

"Oh no. If I could take back the violence...and there are...other things I would change, I think. Mistakes. We made so very many of those." J'lor sighs and closes his eyes for a moment before looking up at the sky again. "Us, E'sere?" One brow arches. "You consider yourself an instigator, now?"

E'sere doesn't contradict J'lor again, only wears still that wry half-smile. "Whether I'm one of you or not, I think it's safe to include myself in the 'having made mistakes' column. But--" He hesitates. "You've been kinder to me than anyone, more giving when you have less to share. Welcoming. I feel ungrateful not to include myself among you--and of course I intend to do what I can to help you. But--call myself an Instigator?"

"I can't say that's what we called ourselves until we were labeled. Have we? Been kinder?" J'lor tsks "That's a shame, then. I suppose," the bluerider gives E'sere a long and thoughtful look, "that's all fair enough."

"Genuinely kinder," affirms E'sere with a nod. His gaze strays away from the man then, toward the cliffs and the sea. "They... They all play-act there, at being kind or giving or anything at all. The--maybe the... the normal people, the everyday folk--maybe they aren't that way, but they don't have the power to give anything at all." A pause. He opens his mouth like he's going to add something else, then shrugs the thought away, frowning.

"They're not...I don't believe...not every single person in a leadership position is that way. I can't believe that." The blue rider shifts his arm so his fingers can drum his knee as he steals a glance over at E'sere. "Go on," he urges gently. "Speak up."

"Of course /you/ can't," E'sere agrees, slipping a sideways look at J'lor then. "And maybe some of them are simply B'sanos, good men constrained by their society. But most of them are Ganathons, Lexines, S'liens, and even if they aren't--it's better to assume, and be prepared." He pauses again, as if warring with that earlier thought. "Why did you do it--your mistakes, the violence? I can't believe even then you thought that the right way to go about things."

"Just because I'm hopeful, doesn't mean I'm always wrong," is J'lor's comment about how he would see things. It is sullen, almost sulking, but he clears his throat. "I didn't...there were only supposed to be the rumors. To spread doubt and give others reason to hear new ideas. But, I stopped watching carefully and things happened without me. I...didn't look too closely. I didn't want to see. By the time I did, it was too far gone."

"No," agrees E'sere, with another of those smiles, soft, "it just means you don't see the wrongness coming. How--?" The question is aborted, whatever he would have voice bitten back in favor of a second's silence, then: "I watched. I kept tabs and I knew even if I hadn't overseen it myself. I wanted to see."

The bluerider sighs softly. "That's another way in which we're different, then. I only wanted it to be done well. And a piece of me was afraid, when things got out of hand, that they had done so. But to see it would be to admit it. I wasn't ready. I was blind."

"I wanted to hurt them," says E'sere, quietly. "I hurt myself more."

"So it goes with violence," J'lor offers gently. "So it always shall."

E'sere nods slowly, bobbing his head a couple of times. "I suppose you're right," he admits. "But why do we always go back to it anyway?"

"It's easy, perhaps. Easier than making people notice you though kinder means. It garners a reaction. It calls attention. I don't know." J'lor frowns. "It gets remembered."

"It gets remembered," repeats E'sere. "Attention. I suppose so." Silence, then. And finally: "I should probably get home. It's starting to get late, and--well. It's getting late," he offers, with a shrug.

"I suppose I should check on the weyrlings again. See how they're coming along with those sharding straps. Good night, E'sere. I...hope you find what you're looking for." The bluerider pushes to a stand as Vellath finally lifts his head and yawns.

"Good luck with that," E'sere tells J'lor wryly as he stands, moving back to the ledge's brim. "And--thank you." Then, he's gone, disappearing over the side toward the ground.