"I intend to fly."
Who: Ganathon and D'ven
Where: The hatching galleries. No kidding! For real!
When: Afternoon on day 28 of the ninth month of the second turn of the Pass.
What: D'ven indulges an old man's rambling. Yes.
It's early afternoon, and D'ven has found himself with some free time. This free time sees the bronzerider sitting in the galleries, eyes closed, enjoying some thoughtful relaxation. He dosn't seem to be asleep, and every so often an eye will open for a moment before closing again.
It takes no small effort of will for G'thon to manage the last step up from the stair that rises up from the hatching grounds entrance. He stops with one foot on the level, one still behind on the step, a pale hand slender curved over the stair-rail. His gaze sweeps the stands, marking the head of one bronzerider and little else. The former weyrleader lifts two fingertips to his temple and rubs a circle there, then rises to the level at last and starts a swift, quiet stride up the landing between two sections of seats. At the aisle he turns downward, taking the shallow steps two at a step, and thus comes to the end of the rank of seats D'ven's not precisely dozing in. There he stops, and the stop is a little sudden; he's thoughtlessly looked down, at the barren sands, and transfixed he for the moment so remains.
At the sound of steps, D'ven's eyes open once more and are drawn to where the former weyrleader is currently transfixed. "G'thon." The greeting is murmured, almost a whisper. If he's acknowledged, the bronzerider gestures to the seats nearby in an inviting manner.
It's just enough to break the bubble - and when G'thon turns to see who spoke his name, as though he'd forgotten there was another man here, his expression reads pretty clearly as relief. "D'ven," he replies, and upon a moment's reflection adds, "Wingsecond." A hint of a smile makes his mouth lopsided; his shoulders rise and fall in a little hapless shrug, and after that he sidles in between the seats. Instead of sitting he turns his back to the view and leans a hip into the seatbacks of the row in front.
"D'ven is fine." He notes with a returned half-smile, watching as the other settles. "How are you?" There's a pause, as he shifts to be able to regard the other more fully. "Does something in particular bring you here, or just the desire for a quiet place?"
"D'ven, then," allows G'thon with a slow inclination of his head. The questions draw his chin back up, however, and prop pale brows up as well. "Truth?" As if he might provide something else. "Thought I'd try to put some old things to bed. A delicate way of saying, 'to see if I could.' And I saw you here." The smile creeps incrementally higher and the brows slip back down into place.
D'ven smiles, and nods. "Yes, I slip in here now and again. It's becoming a habit of mine, recently." There's another pause, this being one of those slow, relaxed, conversations. "I've been meaning to drop by."
G'thon, in the pause, looks away. Anywhere, truly, except back over his shoulder at the sands below. His eyes narrow a little, fielding something of a sense of reminiscence, looking out over the stands. "I'd wondered if you would," he remarks in time. "I had hoped you might." Not quite a confession, though smiling a bit, those words. "How's it been, since?"
"It's been...well, there's been the various ups and downs we've all shared. And lots of thinking." D'ven muses after a moment. "I had half hoped things might have finally been sorted out by now. But, we're still waiting. How's it been for you?"
"Half hoped there'd have been a queen risen?" G'thon's voice is droll and the words roll out lazily, light with dry bemusement. Only after them does he direct his focus back to the bronzerider, turning his head just enough to betray a slight flicker of a brow. "As well as I might ask. I am well-kept, well-cared-for, and well-busied. I shall have my classes to keep my mind sharp. If we can maintain our peace, it will do for me, I think."
D'ven nods. "Exactly. And that's a good point, about the peace. Though eventually things will change, one way or the other. Hopefully for the better."
"I believe they already have," G'thon says, mild and musing, his gaze slipping off into an unknown distance once more. "The delay, if you want my opinion - " He draws back his focus just long enough to allow D'ven a chance at a twinkle of hazel eyes, wry. "- can do us no harm. If Citalth rises, High Reaches has its native queen regardless. If Tialith rises - well. The longer she's been here flying with our wings and serving with our riders, the more she'll be beloved to them after, I suppose."
"That's a good point." D'ven admits with a smile, shaking his head wryly. "And logically, I know you're right. But personally? I'm getting a little antsy to know how I'm going to spend the next few turns of my life." There's a slight grin. "But yes, what you say makes sense. Though if the delay gets too long, it might do more harm than good."
"You intend to fly, then," G'thon replies, bringing his warm regard back to the bronzerider afterward; it rests there readily this time, and does not stray.
D'ven nods, a firm decisive motion. "I intend to fly." He echoes, watching G'thon watching him. "I've been of that opinion for a little while now."
"Ah," understands G'thon, and there's six kinds of smiling in his tone, hardly a one of them matching the one-sided crook of his mouth or the dry warmth of his eyes. "This is some improvement, then, over our last meeting. You seem certain of this much. So let me begin with the less common question: what will you do if you fail?"
"I do believe you're the first to ask me that." D'ven replies with a soft laugh. "I'll continue on as Wingsecond of Three-Cee, unless something else is asked of me. I'll likely have a new appreciation for my free time and pleasures. Honestly? Unless the new leadership asks something else of me, I'll go on doing as I already do."
G'thon's smile creeps a smidgen higher. "Then you have no broad vision of change or improvement you'd work toward as Weyrleader?"
"Well, you asked me what I'd do if I failed." D'ven points out. "And...yes and no. I do have a vision of improvement, but...it just involves getting things back to how they were. Back when we all worked togther, and trusted one another, and weren't scared of what was standing in the shadows."
"But you would do none of those things without the big knot?" G'thon's arms creep up slowly to cross over his stomach, a loose fold there, one hand tucked into the crook of the other elbow.
D'ven tilts his head to one side for a moment. "I like to think that I already strive for these things, so it falls under my comment about doing as I already do. In truth, if I were to get the big knot as you put it, I think I'd have to change my methods slightly. As much as I am resistant to the idea, it would probably require less focus on the individual and more on the general."
G'thon nods once, slowly, barely; approval, perhaps. "Expound? The general can be difficult to approach. Difficult to manipulate. Difficult to even understand. How would you begin?"
"I like to think most people wish for the same things I do." D'ven muses. "So manipulation...would not so much be required." There's a thoughtful pause. "I think the first thing I would do, would be find myself a rider and a none-rider who were Reaches natives, to advise me. I would hope this would show people I took their feelings seriously, and with time they might feel more able to approach and work with me. That's going to the first thing any none-native who becomes Weyrleader would have to do. Win Reaches over. Get everyone willing to pull with them."
G'thon lifts his head, so that his gaze - it has not released D'ven as point of focus since he allowed his intent to send his bronze up in chase - has the considerable length of his nose to slip off of on its way to its target. "I find myself tempted to ask if you have names in mind," he says, and his tone very nearly teases; perhaps the tease is meant for himself, for his nosiness. "Will your efforts differ according to your Weyrwoman?"
D'ven laughs and shakes his head. "No names, no. I don't have intricate plans, merely a few ideas." He replies with another shake of his head, before lapsing back into thoughtfulness. "A little, perhaps. It will partly depend on my Weyrwoman's attitude to things, and her own vision for the future."
"I think you might be able to guess a little bit about what those could be," supposes G'thon, his smile turning into an outright grin (albeit one-sided). He unfolds his arms and adjusts his position leant against the seatbacks, and at last lets D'ven out of his gaze. He looks, instead, over the stands another time. "Not that you are, of course, in any way obliged to inform me of your suspicions, expectations, or ideas - but given that you have had such a change - " A beat, and he glances back at D'ven, and away again. "No. Such an evolution of heart, since our last conversation - well. You will forgive my curiousity."
"Yes and no." D'ven grins back. "And there's nothing to forgive. I did, after all, come to you to begin with." There's a pause, while he gathers his thoughts. "Roa and I spoke about things, once. She...has a slightly different outlook. She does not believe it is possible to go back, and so we must embrace going forward. She sees change as a beneficial process. Sinopa...I know nothing of how she looks at things. But if I had to guess? I would say she is closer to my own outlook."
G'thon nods severally, slowly. "So with Sinopa, you would continue as per your essential plans. With Roa, would you seek to compromise? Exert your superior power as weyrleader? Balance your ideas with her views?"
D'ven looks confused for a moment. "I've always understood that it was the Weyrwoman who had superior power." He grins then. "This is a bit like being back in class. I'm now wondering if that one was a test." He then turns serious, to address the question. "I think some sort of compromise would indeed be necessary. Otherwise we could end up doing more harm than good, whatever our intentions. If the leadership can't work together, you can hardly take them seriously when they try and get everyone else doing so."
"Only in that she nominally selects the weyrleader," replies G'thon, simply. "I suppose that is a matter of perspective. However, I think you might find no small number of bronzeriders in this Weyr - in any Weyr - who believe their power to select the weyrleader by far outstrips the weyrwoman's."
"I can see that, I suppose." D'ven replies thoughtfully. "But, it's never the way I've looked at it. To look at it from another point of view, however, a Weyrleader can be replaced in a flight. Something the Weyrwoman, and according to some the people of the Weyr as a whole, can influence. A Weyrwoman will be Weyrwoman until she can no longer serve."
"Will she?" G'thon glances at D'ven. "I imagine Lexine would disagree. Unless you might like to describe 'service' in wholly reproductive senses." The plural form is gently emphasized.
"One of the duties of a senior pair, from a certain perspective, is to provide the next generation of dragons." D'ven suggests after a moment. "But, I take your point. However, I do not think it invalidates mine. In truth, though, who has 'the real power' dosn't matter. The Weyrwoman sees to the day to day life of the Weyr, the Weyrleader sees to the fighting forces. Like all things on Pern, it only succeeds through cooperation."
"Oh, it can succeed through other means," retorts G'thon with a droll laugh threatening a tremble for his words. He straightens from the seatbacks, hands sleeking down the hem of his shirt as he does so. "But cooperation may be the simplest and best. Perhaps we could discuss alternatives another time?" A little bow of his head, smile wan of a sudden, and apologetic. "I think my capacity for old memories has been expressed for the afternoon."
D'ven nods. "Another time, then. Clear skies, G'thon." There's a pause, and then a smile. "It was...nice, getting to talk to you again. I think I got a lot out of it."
"I very much enjoy our conversations," replies G'thon with more dry apology in his voice, strangely enough. This may be why: "It's nice for an old man to be listened to." On that he slides out from between the rows of seats, then ascends the aisle; in a moment, his retreat from the galleries is complete.
Where: The hatching galleries. No kidding! For real!
When: Afternoon on day 28 of the ninth month of the second turn of the Pass.
What: D'ven indulges an old man's rambling. Yes.
It's early afternoon, and D'ven has found himself with some free time. This free time sees the bronzerider sitting in the galleries, eyes closed, enjoying some thoughtful relaxation. He dosn't seem to be asleep, and every so often an eye will open for a moment before closing again.
It takes no small effort of will for G'thon to manage the last step up from the stair that rises up from the hatching grounds entrance. He stops with one foot on the level, one still behind on the step, a pale hand slender curved over the stair-rail. His gaze sweeps the stands, marking the head of one bronzerider and little else. The former weyrleader lifts two fingertips to his temple and rubs a circle there, then rises to the level at last and starts a swift, quiet stride up the landing between two sections of seats. At the aisle he turns downward, taking the shallow steps two at a step, and thus comes to the end of the rank of seats D'ven's not precisely dozing in. There he stops, and the stop is a little sudden; he's thoughtlessly looked down, at the barren sands, and transfixed he for the moment so remains.
At the sound of steps, D'ven's eyes open once more and are drawn to where the former weyrleader is currently transfixed. "G'thon." The greeting is murmured, almost a whisper. If he's acknowledged, the bronzerider gestures to the seats nearby in an inviting manner.
It's just enough to break the bubble - and when G'thon turns to see who spoke his name, as though he'd forgotten there was another man here, his expression reads pretty clearly as relief. "D'ven," he replies, and upon a moment's reflection adds, "Wingsecond." A hint of a smile makes his mouth lopsided; his shoulders rise and fall in a little hapless shrug, and after that he sidles in between the seats. Instead of sitting he turns his back to the view and leans a hip into the seatbacks of the row in front.
"D'ven is fine." He notes with a returned half-smile, watching as the other settles. "How are you?" There's a pause, as he shifts to be able to regard the other more fully. "Does something in particular bring you here, or just the desire for a quiet place?"
"D'ven, then," allows G'thon with a slow inclination of his head. The questions draw his chin back up, however, and prop pale brows up as well. "Truth?" As if he might provide something else. "Thought I'd try to put some old things to bed. A delicate way of saying, 'to see if I could.' And I saw you here." The smile creeps incrementally higher and the brows slip back down into place.
D'ven smiles, and nods. "Yes, I slip in here now and again. It's becoming a habit of mine, recently." There's another pause, this being one of those slow, relaxed, conversations. "I've been meaning to drop by."
G'thon, in the pause, looks away. Anywhere, truly, except back over his shoulder at the sands below. His eyes narrow a little, fielding something of a sense of reminiscence, looking out over the stands. "I'd wondered if you would," he remarks in time. "I had hoped you might." Not quite a confession, though smiling a bit, those words. "How's it been, since?"
"It's been...well, there's been the various ups and downs we've all shared. And lots of thinking." D'ven muses after a moment. "I had half hoped things might have finally been sorted out by now. But, we're still waiting. How's it been for you?"
"Half hoped there'd have been a queen risen?" G'thon's voice is droll and the words roll out lazily, light with dry bemusement. Only after them does he direct his focus back to the bronzerider, turning his head just enough to betray a slight flicker of a brow. "As well as I might ask. I am well-kept, well-cared-for, and well-busied. I shall have my classes to keep my mind sharp. If we can maintain our peace, it will do for me, I think."
D'ven nods. "Exactly. And that's a good point, about the peace. Though eventually things will change, one way or the other. Hopefully for the better."
"I believe they already have," G'thon says, mild and musing, his gaze slipping off into an unknown distance once more. "The delay, if you want my opinion - " He draws back his focus just long enough to allow D'ven a chance at a twinkle of hazel eyes, wry. "- can do us no harm. If Citalth rises, High Reaches has its native queen regardless. If Tialith rises - well. The longer she's been here flying with our wings and serving with our riders, the more she'll be beloved to them after, I suppose."
"That's a good point." D'ven admits with a smile, shaking his head wryly. "And logically, I know you're right. But personally? I'm getting a little antsy to know how I'm going to spend the next few turns of my life." There's a slight grin. "But yes, what you say makes sense. Though if the delay gets too long, it might do more harm than good."
"You intend to fly, then," G'thon replies, bringing his warm regard back to the bronzerider afterward; it rests there readily this time, and does not stray.
D'ven nods, a firm decisive motion. "I intend to fly." He echoes, watching G'thon watching him. "I've been of that opinion for a little while now."
"Ah," understands G'thon, and there's six kinds of smiling in his tone, hardly a one of them matching the one-sided crook of his mouth or the dry warmth of his eyes. "This is some improvement, then, over our last meeting. You seem certain of this much. So let me begin with the less common question: what will you do if you fail?"
"I do believe you're the first to ask me that." D'ven replies with a soft laugh. "I'll continue on as Wingsecond of Three-Cee, unless something else is asked of me. I'll likely have a new appreciation for my free time and pleasures. Honestly? Unless the new leadership asks something else of me, I'll go on doing as I already do."
G'thon's smile creeps a smidgen higher. "Then you have no broad vision of change or improvement you'd work toward as Weyrleader?"
"Well, you asked me what I'd do if I failed." D'ven points out. "And...yes and no. I do have a vision of improvement, but...it just involves getting things back to how they were. Back when we all worked togther, and trusted one another, and weren't scared of what was standing in the shadows."
"But you would do none of those things without the big knot?" G'thon's arms creep up slowly to cross over his stomach, a loose fold there, one hand tucked into the crook of the other elbow.
D'ven tilts his head to one side for a moment. "I like to think that I already strive for these things, so it falls under my comment about doing as I already do. In truth, if I were to get the big knot as you put it, I think I'd have to change my methods slightly. As much as I am resistant to the idea, it would probably require less focus on the individual and more on the general."
G'thon nods once, slowly, barely; approval, perhaps. "Expound? The general can be difficult to approach. Difficult to manipulate. Difficult to even understand. How would you begin?"
"I like to think most people wish for the same things I do." D'ven muses. "So manipulation...would not so much be required." There's a thoughtful pause. "I think the first thing I would do, would be find myself a rider and a none-rider who were Reaches natives, to advise me. I would hope this would show people I took their feelings seriously, and with time they might feel more able to approach and work with me. That's going to the first thing any none-native who becomes Weyrleader would have to do. Win Reaches over. Get everyone willing to pull with them."
G'thon lifts his head, so that his gaze - it has not released D'ven as point of focus since he allowed his intent to send his bronze up in chase - has the considerable length of his nose to slip off of on its way to its target. "I find myself tempted to ask if you have names in mind," he says, and his tone very nearly teases; perhaps the tease is meant for himself, for his nosiness. "Will your efforts differ according to your Weyrwoman?"
D'ven laughs and shakes his head. "No names, no. I don't have intricate plans, merely a few ideas." He replies with another shake of his head, before lapsing back into thoughtfulness. "A little, perhaps. It will partly depend on my Weyrwoman's attitude to things, and her own vision for the future."
"I think you might be able to guess a little bit about what those could be," supposes G'thon, his smile turning into an outright grin (albeit one-sided). He unfolds his arms and adjusts his position leant against the seatbacks, and at last lets D'ven out of his gaze. He looks, instead, over the stands another time. "Not that you are, of course, in any way obliged to inform me of your suspicions, expectations, or ideas - but given that you have had such a change - " A beat, and he glances back at D'ven, and away again. "No. Such an evolution of heart, since our last conversation - well. You will forgive my curiousity."
"Yes and no." D'ven grins back. "And there's nothing to forgive. I did, after all, come to you to begin with." There's a pause, while he gathers his thoughts. "Roa and I spoke about things, once. She...has a slightly different outlook. She does not believe it is possible to go back, and so we must embrace going forward. She sees change as a beneficial process. Sinopa...I know nothing of how she looks at things. But if I had to guess? I would say she is closer to my own outlook."
G'thon nods severally, slowly. "So with Sinopa, you would continue as per your essential plans. With Roa, would you seek to compromise? Exert your superior power as weyrleader? Balance your ideas with her views?"
D'ven looks confused for a moment. "I've always understood that it was the Weyrwoman who had superior power." He grins then. "This is a bit like being back in class. I'm now wondering if that one was a test." He then turns serious, to address the question. "I think some sort of compromise would indeed be necessary. Otherwise we could end up doing more harm than good, whatever our intentions. If the leadership can't work together, you can hardly take them seriously when they try and get everyone else doing so."
"Only in that she nominally selects the weyrleader," replies G'thon, simply. "I suppose that is a matter of perspective. However, I think you might find no small number of bronzeriders in this Weyr - in any Weyr - who believe their power to select the weyrleader by far outstrips the weyrwoman's."
"I can see that, I suppose." D'ven replies thoughtfully. "But, it's never the way I've looked at it. To look at it from another point of view, however, a Weyrleader can be replaced in a flight. Something the Weyrwoman, and according to some the people of the Weyr as a whole, can influence. A Weyrwoman will be Weyrwoman until she can no longer serve."
"Will she?" G'thon glances at D'ven. "I imagine Lexine would disagree. Unless you might like to describe 'service' in wholly reproductive senses." The plural form is gently emphasized.
"One of the duties of a senior pair, from a certain perspective, is to provide the next generation of dragons." D'ven suggests after a moment. "But, I take your point. However, I do not think it invalidates mine. In truth, though, who has 'the real power' dosn't matter. The Weyrwoman sees to the day to day life of the Weyr, the Weyrleader sees to the fighting forces. Like all things on Pern, it only succeeds through cooperation."
"Oh, it can succeed through other means," retorts G'thon with a droll laugh threatening a tremble for his words. He straightens from the seatbacks, hands sleeking down the hem of his shirt as he does so. "But cooperation may be the simplest and best. Perhaps we could discuss alternatives another time?" A little bow of his head, smile wan of a sudden, and apologetic. "I think my capacity for old memories has been expressed for the afternoon."
D'ven nods. "Another time, then. Clear skies, G'thon." There's a pause, and then a smile. "It was...nice, getting to talk to you again. I think I got a lot out of it."
"I very much enjoy our conversations," replies G'thon with more dry apology in his voice, strangely enough. This may be why: "It's nice for an old man to be listened to." On that he slides out from between the rows of seats, then ascends the aisle; in a moment, his retreat from the galleries is complete.