Log: Tough Day at the Office
Who: P'draig, Tosolla, Neraset (NPC), B'orl (NPC)
When: It is a spring afternoon, on day 16, month 5, turn 18 of Interval 10.
Where: Bowl/Living Cavern, Ista Weyr
What: Paddy's leading weyrlings through beginning ground drills and it's not going so well. Tosolla suggests a break. Tosolla attempts to apply her considerable charms during the break. P'draig lays down some ground-rules for the girl and also makes some facepalm-worthy assumptions.
Northwest Bowl, Ista Weyr
The afternoon light reaches far across the bowl, dancing dust motes captured by its rays. Despite the frequent traffic the bowl receives, grass stubbornly continues sending up shoots to cover some of its hard-packed dirt. Well-worn tracks lead to commonly used areas: southeast to the rest of the bowl and the inner caverns, on further northwest to the sprawling plateau of Ista Weyr. Westward, by the corrals, the bowl wall is missing; the lava flow that once tore it down now long-cooled into the grassy plain visible from here.
The remaining walls, however, are well-used, riddled with the ledges of weyrs and lined along the bottom with entrances to ground weyrs for flights, visitors, and the injured--the infirmary's curtained doorway is equally close, for those particular cases. There's also the large tunnel with its metal doors to the weyrling barracks, back to the northeast.
It's a nice afternoon out in the Bowl, springy fresh and not too humid, but getting there. P'draig's been leading the weyrlings through some preliminary ground drills, stopping often to correct movements, re-align rows and so on and so forth. "Neraset, /back/ in position," he calls out with what seems like endless patience. Jekzith paces and occasionally takes off, glides overhead to check it all out from above. Either way the brown isn't holding very still.
Tosolla waits in place with unusual patience whenever the formation needs to stop and readjust. That's perhaps the only way in which she shines: the young greenrider needs correcting as much as any other weyrling. Now she watches Jekzith soaring over while one of the blueriders has it explained to him yet again which foot is his right and which the left. "--Paddy?" she finally calls out, offering the brownrider and Neraset both little smiles just this side of coy. "Could we take a break for a little bit?"
Jekzith flies over and P'draig looks up, running a hand through his hair. Tosolla's request draws his attention and he looks through the ranks of weyrlings, takes note of the hangdog posture on many of them and B'orl who has had his feet re-arranged at least five times, nods energetically. "Please, sir, if you don't mind. It'd give me a chance to try to get this sorted in my head." Paddy nods, steps back. "Yeah, you guys look like you could use one. All right, everyone take a half hour, go get a drink, think about something /other/ than drills and formations, come back before the sun hits the top of the eyerock."
A ragged cheer comes up and most of the weyrlings scatter at a jog, leaving only Solla behind. Sometime near the end of the drill Tyalith crept out of the barracks but though she exchanges looks with her green, it's the brownrider Solla approaches, her smile broadening prettily. "Thank you, Paddy. It can get awfully confusing, trying to -do- something we've only seen written down. It must be frustrating for you, too. And Jekzith," a nod after the brown, "looks so bored."
The scattering group sees P'draig putting hands to hips and then one sneaks up to the back of his neck, rubbing as he swings his head to and fro. "Sure, 'Solla, thanks for spotting that everyone was fried. Sometimes I can get a little too heads down in getting things done." He grins over at her and eyes Jekzith with a chuckle. "It's too much holding still for him. He'd rather we were already on the ones in the air, but in the end, he's also just plain got a lot of comments for him. I need his point of view, from up there," the brownrider points up to the sky, one-fingered. "Anyway. C'mon, want to go get that drink with me? Tell me how you're holding up, overall?"
Tosolla's beam brightens still further, echoing her father's best, and she tips her head to one side while watching him still. "You're welcome. B'orl... well, he was saying earlier he didn't understand what you were trying to show him." She gives a nod to Tyalith, silently explaining how she knew. "And I'd -love- to have a drink with you. Where? Not down at the Sandbar?" Eagerness warring with uncertainty, she looks to her green again, who is calmly watching Jekzith. "The path's awfully steep for her, isn't it?"
"Ah, well I'll talk to him later, tell him it's okay to tell /me/ that too," P'draig says with a quiet chuckle. "And I can demonstrate again in a side-by-side. I've tied a weyrling's feet to mine before to walk through it, just like when you're learning to dance," he explains further with a wink over for the weyrling. Outright laughter follows at mention of the 'bar. "I wish, but no. Just the living cavern or the kitchen for today, Solla." Jekzith stretches out maple wings and then approaches Tyalith, a bright stream of mental bubbles preceding his physical approach. << Hullo! >>
"Tied his feet...?" Solla begins, only to dissolve into giggles at the explanation. "Oh, /dancing/! --Well, I suppose the kitchen will be all right." Still with that smile, she tucks her hand around his arm and beams up at him. Teasingly pouting, "I suppose you're going to say 'no wine' for me too, aren't you?" Without waiting for his answer she sighs most dramatically. "Well, if it's the only way I can get you alone...!" Tyalith considers the bubbles, popping one here and there and studying the results. << Hullo, Jekzith. I saw you flying. >>
"So long as Balinne says no wine, I'm saying no wine," P'draig says quite seriously but then he's chuckling again. "Yeah, like when you're a kid and you put your feet on top of an adult's to learn. Only you know, without the on top of part," he continues about the foot-tying. That last remark earns a sidelong look and Paddy reaches over to give Solla's hand a friendly pat. "And what do you need to get me alone for? Got a lot of problems with -- " and he tips his head Tyalith-wards, "-- that you need to talk about semi-privately?" Oh. You wish brownrider. You wish. Jekzith paints the landscape in rainbow hues as some of the bubbles pop and they release what's held inside, fragments of sunlight, snippets of daydreams, a picture of the weyrlings practicing from above. << Oh did you? Are you looking forward to getting up there? >>
Tosolla affects another pout at 'no wine' - which really does charming things to her mouth - but relaxes enough to tease, "Who -doesn't- want to get you alone, Paddy? Papa certainly does." As they head across the bowl Tyalith momentarily abandons both bubbles and brown to watch her rider and her attention's only half on Jekzith for her reply. << I did. I am looking forward to flying myself, but it will come with time. >> Leaving that aside, she focuses in on a flash of green wing released by the brown's bubble. << Who is this? I do not recognize her. >>
To his credit maybe, P'draig only grins at that remark. "He's my weyrmate, Solla," the brownrider points out good-naturedly but with teasing in his voice, "it kind of goes with the territory. Lucky him, he gets me to himself almost every night." Jekzith pushes up on all four limbs, stretching some more and tips a look up at the sky. << I think you'll like it a lot. It's always so much fun to cut through the air to spin and twirl. >> That flash is focused on and brought out and Jekzith pulls up a full-formed memory of Tiasheth. << Tiasheth. She is a very good friend. Very sweet-tempered and her rider likes P'draig very much. I enjoy flying with her. >> Something amusedly canny in that remark.
"And who /else/...?" Solla begins, only to cut herself off with a glance backwards at her green. She's quiet then for a handful of steps, amusing herself by trying to stretch her legs to match his. "Do you ever get tired of it? Of us, I mean? Weyrlings?" Tyalith studies Tiasheth with her usual solemnity, as though she'll be tested later. << I think I will enjoy flying with her as well, >> she decides finally. << Just as there will be some I will not enjoy flying with. >>
"Paige, but you knew that," P'draig says conversationally. "As for the rest, well, it's not polite to kiss and tell now is it?" He winks over at the girl and tilts a look over his shoulder, unconsciously slowing a little for her shorter legs. "Hmm? Oh, no, not really. I mean I got almost a full turn's break from it and to be honest, I didn't know what to do with myself without it after a bit. Felt all strange. The break was good, because yeah, it's a pretty stressful job, though a little less so in an Interval." Jekzith takes that in and flashes bright, warm colors Tyalith's way. << Oh I think you will. She's very friendly. I don't know many that I don't like flying with. But you're right, that happens. >> P'draig is quiet for a few paces as they near the entrance to the caverns. "So listen, Solla, I know you've known your father all your life and me for a little while, and when we're off-duty, still calling me 'Paddy' is fine, but in lessons and things, a 'sir' or 'P'draig' might be a good idea, so that your classmates don't get the feeling like we're favoring you somehow. See what I mean?"
Tosolla hops and skips to keep pace. "I meant -Papa-," she grins and attempts to bump her hip into his leg before falling back into a boringly sedate walk. "He says you're too... too busy? --Just sometimes," she hastens to add, leaping to Mic's defense. "And he says he doesn't mind, if you're happy, Paddy." In case the brownrider was seeking her approval or something. But then he's chewing her out and she slows further, looking away in an attempt to hide her scowl. "I'm not, though, and you don't. They're wherries if they think so." Tyalith brightens to be agreed with and pops another bubble curiously. << What is in here? Why do you hide them? >>
"Mm, goes both ways, 'Solla," P'draig murmurs with another quiet chuckle, slants another sideways look over at the girl. "I think Mic and I are pretty damn happy, yeah. No complaints here," he notes, bemused at that note of approval in her tone. The scowl lifts one of his hands, nudging at her upper arm in a friendly fist. "C'mon, help us out here, 'Solla. You're a rider now and you need to follow the rules just like everyone else." It's not so much chewing out as wheedling but with an undertone of 'that's the way it is'. Pop. Inside that next bubble of Jekzith's, high masts and blue skies and the tang of salty sea air, cooler by far than Ista. << Don't you like surprises, Tyalith? >>
"I'm not -really- a rider," she pouts, not quite whining. "Tyalith's too small. And I listen to everything anyone says -and- I do it!" as though that will somehow give her a pass. "Anyway, it feels stupid to call Papa 'sir'." Solla kicks at an inoffensive rock and casts another through-her-lashes look up at the brownrider. "And Paddy suits you better." The little green doesn't give the salt-and-masts much attention, instead waiting for the next offering. << I like -knowing- better. Surprises are good sometimes, but not all the time, Tosolla says, and I agree with her. >>
"Mm, and you'll stay a weyrling longer than everyone else with an attitude like that," P'draig points out, voice mild, "and you've been doing /such/ a good job so far too. It'd be a pity it would." The brownrider's hand shifts, making to rest lightly on her shoulder. "I know Solla. I think we were both a little worried about you Impressing and both of us being in charge of you. I mean it's got to be hard having to 'sir' Mic," he continues sympathetically. "You can all me Paddy all you want when I'm not teaching or on duty keeping an eye on the Barracks." Jekzith just grins mentally and blows rosy-gold clouds Tyalith's way. << I like making surprises. But showing is good too. Here. >> He 'tugs' gently to bring her along with him, dragon's eye perspective of flying up and up high, with the feeling of wind against hide and sun warming all around, Ista falling away below. The cold snap of Between and the approach to Tillek and its high cliffs, with fishermen casting nets over the sides of those ships.
Solla accuses, "I know what you're doing," but leans into that touch on her arm anyway. "You aren't going to send me away, are you? Up to the Reaches, or Fort?!" Grabbing his hand in both of hers she makes her eyes big at him, ignoring the looks they're getting from people passing by. Tyalith clouds over, not nearly as entertained as she could be, should be, by the impromptu travelogue. << Where is Tosolla? >> Not at Tillek, certainly.
"Clever then, aren't you?" P'draig compliments, brows quirking as she exclaims so and grabs his hand. "Huh? Shells, no. Couldn't even if I wanted to," the brownrider replies, looking a little flummoxed. Jekzith's mind rings with merriment. << Bring her with you, and then we can take her back. In your mind, you know. If you were flying for real she would be on your back. >> And he shares the feeling of rider and dragon flying /together/.
Tosolla says, "I thought you meant...," and frowns, looking back to the bowl. After a second, and in a lightning-quick topic change she declares, "--Let's get something to drink. Tyalith's... she's unhappy? I think? Something. Do I have to go back to her? Pa...." She catches herself with another frown and says deliberately, "/T'mic/ says we should start working on being away from them. Her." Tyalith twists about physically as well as mentally, trying to see the -thing- on her back that is/isn't Tosolla. << That is not her! She is... I saw her go. She cannot go /and/ be here! >>
"Hm?" P'draig now just looks confused for a second then hitches his thumb backwards towards Jekzith. "Oh what he was showing her?" And then he's look backing too. "Ohhh, yeah, separation." He comes to a halt and nods. "Turn back around and let her see where you're going, think about where it is in relation to where she is, and show her that it's not far. If she wants she can come across the Bowl with Jekzith and they can wait just outside." Jekzith has soothing blues to offer next. << Sorry, that was imagining things that will be and aren't yet, >> the brown observes philosophically. << Right /now/ she is right /there/. >> And his head turns in the direction of their riders. << P'draig says we may follow if we like, but they are going inside. Not far. It will be all right, you will be able to feel her the whole time and I am right here with you. >>
Tosolla shakes her head with another frown. "I'm not sure what. Something about... being here and not-here and flying? Only she didn't like it." Her frown deepens but she eels away from the brownrider and back to the entrance of the living cavern where Tyalith can see, giving an unnecessary wave. << I do not understand you, >> the green says with a touch of petulance though she settles again once Tosolla is discovered to be not at Tillek at all. << But she is there, and I think I will stay here. >> A beat. << Unless I want to go there later. She says I may. >>
"Yeah, he was taking her for a fly-along, just make-believe like," P'draig says with interest, head cocked to the side as he trades thoughts with Jekzith. "Huh. Apparently she didn't like that one bit." He nods though as Tosolla waves, lets Tyalith see her. << That's all right, it's just pictures, >> the brown explains and settles down in place as Tyalith makes her plans plain. << Everything is right then. >>
Solla lingers a moment longer before returning to P'draig's side, her hand reaching for the brownrider's. "Is that what it was? She couldn't explain it very...." Her free hand waves at her head. "I think you and Papa are better at... at listening? to them. At least, Papa never doesn't not know what Aath wants, and I think you're the same with Jekzith." Tyalith thinks that over before deciding, << Yes. You may fly again, if you want, and I will watch you. >>
P'draig gives Solla's hand a brief squeeze. "Good job reassuring her," he says encouragingly and starts back towards the caverns entrance. "Yeah? Well for me, Jekzith's always been really really close. He's a constant hum in the background, just beneath thought and Aath and your Papa, well let's just say that he used to fall asleep when she did whether it was bedtime or not." He grins over at Tosolla hands heading for his pockets. "So I don't know that it's that we're better or just that that's the way Aath and Jek are with us. "What's it like for you and Tyalith?" Jekzith's got merry, bright, jangly colors in his head now and he floats a bubble her way to pop. << Sure. How high would you like me to go? >>
Tosolla casts another look at him but says, "Thank you," primly before squeezing his hand back. "--That's what he's said about her. He's told some of the others, and I overheard. But isn't that...." She struggles to find the words, finally settling on, "He tells the others to -not- be like that. But he is. And so are you, I think? So... why is that bad?" Her green pretends to ignore the bubble, though there's a brightening about it that betrays her interest. << You may go... as high as the edge, >> she decides magnanimously. << So I can see you. >>
"Mm, at first it was too close," P'draig explains, "and Balinne taught him how to separate enough so that there was Mic and Aath instead of ... MicAath," he too reaches for the right way to say things. "For me it's more that Jekzith was always /there/, but it didn't affect me quite the same way as Aath did your Papa. Jekzith just needs to be a part of everything. It took a little getting used to but we pretty much just ride shotgun in each other's heads all the time, but it's a focus thing. I can choose to focus on him or not and the same with him. So most of the time, I always know what he's thinking at least on an -- well I guess an instinctive level. But we're only /that/ close like the falling asleep bit, when we let each other be, or when he's chasing in a flight." Bounce, bounce, bounce, the bubble floats along bouncily, clear but shot through with rainbows and it holds an image of her rider as Jekzith sees her. << Okay! >> agreed-to readily enough as suddenly maple wings spread wide, reach for a draft and up goes the brown, flying in fun zig zags upward and as he gets higher indulging in loop-de-loops.
"I thought Fadra was his weyrlingmaster?" Solla tries to bump their hips again, paying no mind to those eyes who note her knot and his and frown. "But I suppose that makes sense. Some of what he's said before makes more sense now." Now that she has Tyalith, that is. "--Do you want juice? I could go get a couple of glasses, if you wanted to find chairs."
P'draig doesn't quite step away, but he doesn't let that bump land either. "She was but Balinne helped out I guess. She's good at explaining things, breaking them down, the Weyrlingmaster is. Really, she may be relatively new at this, but I can't complain at all about the choice. She'll be good at this," Paddy says confidently of Balinne. Inside the cavern, he bobs his head in an affirmative. "Sure, juice works, I'll grab the table and chairs. And Solla - you're a far cry from Neraset, but maybe ease up on the flirting a bit, hm? I'm your teacher, not a prospect." There's a warm smile though to take any sting out of the words as P'draig threads a path through to find one of the smaller tables and makes sure there's two chairs turned properly towards it. He flops down into one of these, sets elbows onto the table and props his chin on his hands, letting his mind wander apparently while Tosolla fetches the drinks.
"Papa said Fadra was really good," Solla says to defend the other brownrider, though she immediately softens it with, "But I think Balinne is good, too." She tries for another bump and fails, fish-mouths at him for his correction. She almost says something but thinks better of it, instead marching away stiff-backed and offended as a wet cat. The worst of her mood - or at least the outward signs of it - have gone by the time she returns and hands over one glass to Paddy before slipping into the other chair. "Papa says Neraset doesn't have any subtlety. I have to agree."
"Fadra's good too, nice and strict," P'draig says as Tosolla huffs away, and then he's sitting there looking thoughtful, until she returns and he nods thanks for the glass of juice. "Thanks, Solla." There's a little pause as he takes a sip before he responds. "Neraset, is too full of herself to be subtle," is Paddy's assessment. "I think she thinks people want her to do what she does. And she doesn't realize how off-putting it is." Gray-blue eyes focus on hers and that thoughtful expression of his is back. "You've got a better idea of how to do it right than she does, but I've been in trouble before for flirting with the wrong girl, Solla and you're Mic's daughter to boot, so if you could cut me a little break, I'd appreciate it."
"She's pretty enough," T'mic's daughter agrees of the blonde, solemn as if they were discussing upcoming Thread. "But I haven't been -that- bad since I was -thirteen-." And she's just ever so much older now. She sips at her drink, eyes twinkling at the brownrider over the rim, but sobers and and sets the glass down with a thunk and nearly a slosh. "Well, I... But you're -cute-! --Handsome," she corrects immediately. "Anyway, I don't think Papa'd mind. Tyalith would, at least for a few more months, but you don't mean I have to stop for -months-, do you?"
"Mm, if you like blondes," P'draig says with some amusement and has another sip from the glass Tosolla passed him. His gaze settles on her face again and that amusement seems to grow. "Take after your Papa, don't you?" he tells her with a hint of fondness in his voice. "Thanks, but it's not about your father, Solla. It's not right, because I'm one of your weyrlingmasters. So yeah, months. Until after you get tapped."
Tosolla brightens for the compliment - both of them. "He says I do, anyway. Mella doesn't. But she's young, still." Thus dismissing her next-youngest sister, she collects her glass again for another sip. "Oh, so you -would-...? Or aren't I supposed to ask? Or," she adds, laughing now, "Aren't you supposed to tell me?"
"Like father, like daughter," P'draig breathes out with a little shake of his head and has another long gulp of his juice. "He chased after me for ages, you know?" Conversational that. "And then I dunked him in the ocean and he stopped for a while." Beat. "And now we're weyrmates. Go figure." That series of questions earns a /look/. "We get along, we flirt around sometimes, it's fun to play the game. No game while you're a weyrling. As for follow-through, you're /way/ too young for that."
Tosolla can be magnanimous in her triumph - or at least when she thinks she's won - and settles back into her chair with a smug little smile. "I think I remember that. I asked him once how you'd met. He said he didn't remember, really, but the time he remembered best was when you dunked him. Something about being drunk, and you and this other brownrider...?" Clearly fishing, that still doesn't stop her from pouting at him for his declaration. "I'm not /either/, but that's all I'm going to say about it. Tyalith'd be upset."
"He doesn't remember. Heh. Go figure," P'draig murmurs under his breath and looks across at his weyrmate's daughter. "T'rien was the other brownrider. Seliene's brother. Seliene kind of said that Mic wasn't treating her right and we were all a little drunk and T'rien and I thought your dad needed a lesson about not whining about not getting any because Seliene was a weyrling. It was silly." He turns his glass to and fro, thoughtful again. "We actually met when he was still a weyrling and his weyrlingmaster took him to Fort on a training jump." The pout only earns a grin. "You're not even sixteen yet and I hope that that's one thing you /won't/ be following in your father's footsteps about. Take your time, Solla."
Solla defends her father immediately - no surprise there. "Papa remembers the important things. And -I- know about Seliene." From the scowl, not with fondness. "All Papa'll say about her is that he wished it'd gone better, but that probably means she was just /awful/ to him." Still grumpy, she cradles her glass like it was the other greenrider's neck. "What, do you mean having children? I know about that - and I don't want any, not yet. Not for a long while, if at all."
"I know he goes," P'draig says with a grin. "That wasn't meant as a slam. Your Papa and I, we're pretty aware of each other's strengths and weaknesses and we love each other in spite of ... or I dunno, maybe even because of them." The expression about Seliene earns a lopsided grin. "They wanted different things. She wanted more of a traditional weyrmating with kids and everything. Your father ... well, what we've got him and me, I don't think it could've worked out any better." There's a little nod, but also a shake of his head. "Yeah kids, but what you do to get them too." He cocks a look towards the Bowl, maybe checking on not-visible Tyalith. "But that's a conversation for a few months from now when Tyalith's less sensitive.
Tosolla waits P'draig out with all the patience of a teenager, even going so far as to not roll her eyes. "I /know/ about all of that," she says again, having more juice. "Faranth, Paddy!" She glances around quickly to ensure a lack of frowners for her language and leans in. "I'm not a virgin, even if Tyalith is. But I'm not going to do anything to upset her. I'm not even going to do anything to upset /you/," she adds, teasing again.
At this point all P'draig can do is facepalm, dragging his hand long over his face and mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like 'chip off the old block'. "Okay then, serves me right for assuming," he finally says more audibly and gulps down the last of his juice. "It's not that the flirting upsets me, Solla. It's just not /right/. I can't flirt back. Shells, even your Papa would agree with me on this one."
Tosolla pouts again, but it's back to the flirty, teasing sort. "I bet he wouldn't. And it's all right, Paddy." She reaches out as if to pat his arm but thinks better of it, and lets her hand lie between them instead. "You can just save up all the flirting you can't do, and unleash it all on me at the end. Or you could just aim it at Papa. I bet he wouldn't mind."
"No, he's got a pretty firm grasp of weyrling and weyrlingmaster too, Solla," P'draig says firmly. "It's just something you don't mess with, from either side. All of you learning what you need to, is too important to muddy up with that kind of thing." He grins a little wanly for that extended hand and then his eyes get a hint of a twinkle to them. "Tosolla, my very dear girl, your Papa is getting a whole /hell/ of a lot more than flirting at least twice a day and no, I don't think he minds." Humorous for that, followed by a laugh. "All right it's a deal, I'll save it all up. Because I /have/ thought of a couple of pretty clever one-liners."
The girl pouts again then sighs, smile reappearing on her face like she's being determinedly cheerful. "All right, save it up. Because I expect -something- the day after I'm tapped to a wing. Or maybe that same day, if it's early enough." She pushes back into her chair to gather her glass to her chest, feet swinging ever so slightly beneath the table while she watches the brownrider. "How old were you when you Impressed, anyway?"
P'draig tips back a little in his chair, looking towards the angle of the sun in the cavern's entrance. "Time to head back," he notes and then looks back across at Tosolla. "I'll write down the best one-liners, just for you," he quips with a chuckle. "Well, I Stood twice, once when I'd just turned fourteen, didn't Impress and then Jekzith found me the second time around when I was sixteen."
Tosolla follows his gaze and nods about the sun, finishing off her juice in a few quick swallows. "I was hoping to get them delivered a little more personally," she says, and to her credit, without much flirtatiousness. "You're a good match, the two of you. You ground him, but you're both very... happy. You know?"
"That's just to remind me," P'draig answers, grin flashing bright for a moment as he gets to his feet, lingers by the chair, one hand resting on the top back rail. "Yeah. I know. We're lucky," he says simply. "After everything, we've found each other. It's good to finally feel at home." His head tilts towards the exit though. "C'mon, time to go. But why did you want to know about when I Impressed?"
Tosolla grins, eerily like her Papa, and hops to her feet. "I meant you and Jekzith, but I suppose it works for you and Papa, too. T'mic," she adds with another eyeroll for those omni-present pedants. "I was just wondering if you can tell the difference between someone who Impressed in their teens, like us, or someone older, like my Papa."
"Oh!" P'draig laughs sheepishly. "Yeah, I don't know that many pairs who aren't a good match. Maybe the only one that sticks out really is my mother and her green, but they worked it out over time." He starts to amble on outward. "I think that it's not that noticeable later on," Paddy says thoughtfully, hands in pockets again, chin dropped to chest. "But overall, older weyrlings seem to have an easier time handling a lot of it. They're more willing to ... make the sacrifices that they need to and have the maturity and knowledge of themselves to handle the bond better. It's not a given every time and sometimes it can be a struggle, because most people over sixteen or so had lives, a path, a craft, something." P'draig pauses on the threshold, looking outward towards where Jekzith is still doing crazy acrobatics, dipping in and out of sight. "Me, I'm glad I didn't Impress the first time. I barely knew who I was and what I wanted out of life. It was good to have those two turns to figure it out and make the choice to be a rider with my eyes wide open."
"I don't think I knew your Mama was - is? - a greenrider," Solla says as she falls into step beside P'draig again, this time not trying to lace her arm through his. Good Weyrling. "Did she Impress when she was older too? Is everyone in your family a rider? --No, Papa says you have a couple of brothers and sisters who aren't riders. Right?"
"Emilly, green Sionath's, still," P'draig answers affirmatively. "And my Da's a bronzerider and my Papa's a brownrider." He tilts an approving look over at Solla for her restraint. "She was twenty I think, Stood twice too, had me in between clutches," Paddy explains. "And no, there's riders on both sides going back generations as far as I know, but also a bunch of Baker blood. I have one full-blooded brother, he's a harper and uh -- well he's weyrmated to my son's mother. My half-sisters are a Smith and the Headwoman at the Reaches. I've got a lot of other half-siblings through my Da. He sleeps around a lot." Casual that last.
As they return to the bowl Tyalith stops watching the acrobatic brown - for a moment only, but long enough to place -her- girl as is right and proper. Then, reassured, her head tilts to the sky again. "So you're the only rider in your generation," her rider says with a little nod to settle the information. "I didn't know that about Jaivery - and isn't it funny? You have Jaivery, and Chadamalith has Javeri."
Jekzith turns and twirls and P'draig just grins upward fondly then tips a look downward at Tosolla as they cross the Bowl back to the dragons and the slowly collecting class. "Yep. Though Millie might go for it, but she's decided it's not for her. And well, she's closer to your age than to mind, not even twenty yet." He ambles along for a pace or two, laughs and nods. "Yeah, they're not quite pronounced the same way, those two names. But yeah. Vrys had a crush on me and was friends with my brother and then our browns lost a flight together and boom, there you go, nine months later, we had a Jaivery. Vrys and I don't -- always see eye to eye about him though and overall, she and my brother fit together better." Beat. "Miss her sometimes though. She had a way about her ... and incredible green eyes." The brownrider's voice trails off, tone fond.
"Did she ever get Searched, though?" Solla asks of Millie, rising up onto her toes to watch Jekzith for a few dancing steps. "--He loves flying, doesn't he. Papa - /T'mic/ - has to really ask to get Aath to do that." Back on her heels, she grins up at the brownrider. "And your brother isn't my Papa, to share? --You can't answer that," she adds immediately, grimacing broadly. "So you don't like blondes, but you do like green eyes. That's good to know."
"Wouldn't need to, not with two parents riders and living at the Weyr all her life," P'draig says with a little look sideways. "She could have just asked any time. But no, no Search." He's watching Jekzith again, nodding. "Oh yeah, made for it, I mean look at him. He can give a lot of blues a run for their money in the air." He gestures loosely then blinks over at Tosolla. "To share?" And he's still blanking in spite of the grimace. "Oh I like blondes just fine. And redheads. And brunettes." Paddy just laughs about the green eyes. "It's more personality than looks for me. That or just friendly, willing and un-demanding after a flight." Beat. "If you're after what I like in a woman, strong, funny, but sweet."
Tosolla doesn't explain what she meant about sharing - darn weyrling rules. Instead it's, "But you said Neraset was blonde...?" before another Mic-like grin takes possession of her face. "You -are- like papa. But I'm not asking anymore because Tyalith wants to know what we're talking about." She settles for a few steps, mimicing seriousness quite reliably until the green - though she looks suspicious - places her head on her forelegs.
"Yeah it's Neraset's attitude that's the problem. I mean, I can still appreciate the fact that she's a damn fine looking girl. It's just that things get ugly the minute she opens her mouth," the brownrider states a little bluntly and laughs, shrugs. "Not quite as uh -- outgoing as your father. But I don't hold back all the time either," he murmurs quietly just as they reach the green. "Heya Tyalith, all good here? See, brought her back safe and sound," P'drag says for the green's benefit. Jekzith, reluctantly comes down from the sky and settles in for a landing.
Tosolla, true to her word, only gives the brownrider a bright smile for his explanation. She crosses over to her green, hands reaching for Tyalith's muzzle, and for a little while the two are lost in communion. "She says thank you, and she stopped being worried after a little," Solla reports over her shoulder. "She's very... balanced. She's lovely." And for her loveliness Tyalith gets a kiss, right between her eyes.
"That she is," P'draig answers with a loose grin, then walks over to Jekzith to give him a good scratch between the headknobs before his voice is lifting again. "All right weyrlings, form up, let's see if we can get this going. I'm going to turn around and walk through it again from your point of view, anyone who doesn't get it still, hand up and I'll come around to stomp through it with you side by side."
Tyalith snorts indulgently and sends Solla back to stomp through formations. She pauses at B'orl's side to whisper something and offer an encouraging smile; the bluerider's return smile is more pained. Then she outright grins at Neraset's flouncing into position, and how the blonde stares hard at P'draig before deliberately flipping her hair.
Neraset is likely deliberately ignored as P'draig turns around to walk through the demonstration again. When he's done he turns around to see hands raised, among them Neraset's. It's B'orl that the brownrider heads for first though, standing right next to the blueriding weyrling and patiently walking him through it side-by-side so he can make his feet do what Paddy's do. Some of the 'older' weyrlings come in off of another exercise and the weyrlingmaster begs the favor from some of them to mentor the 'younger' ones and Neraset gets stuck with Gertru, who is very nice but wears glasses and has her hair cut short like a boy, for a demo partner. << It's hard to sit and watch them, >> Jekzith notes to Tyalith with a little mental sigh and takes off after a while to cruise about overhead while P'draig continues to work the group for another hour and a half before calling it quits for the day.
Though Solla grimaces at Gertru she accepts the older weyrling's presence with a little 'what can you do' shrug. Finally - eventually - the class breaks up, B'orl retreating straight back to the barracks. Tosolla lingers for a while, chatting with Gertru and watching with surreptitious grin while Neraset tries again - and fails - to catch P'draig's eye. Finally Neraset flounces off and Tyalith takes this as a prime opportunity to leave her spot and claim the center of what used to be the weyrling formation. Solla joins her, and the pair watch P'draig and Jekzith.
Even though Neraset is mostly trying to ignore Gertru, eventually even she has to give in and take the instruction, tucking her hair behind her ears and paying attention until the group manages to limp through a full iteration of the drill. Every time Neraset sticks out her chest, flips her hair or makes eyes at him, Paddy deflects by either being very answering questions, or once Jekzith is down, tending to his brown. With the class dispersing, he actually sits on Jekzith's forearm and leans back, rubbing at his jaw and looking a little tired. B'ryce has turned up and corrals many of the departing weyrlings for some q & a on other things. Jekzith's head drops, curling protectively towards P'draig and his rider smiles upward, hand running along the brown's jaw. "Yeah, I'm okay, buddy," he murmurs quietly.
Tosolla gives B'ryce a bright smile, and since she's not trying to flee the area, manages not to get scooped up by the bluerider. She crosses over to join Paddy instead, a hesitant hand not quite touching the brown's hide. "You all right?" she too would like to know, one eye remaining on Tyalith.
Up come P'draig's eyes and a smile forms up, a nod forming up. "Yeah, just a little tired. Been up since before dawn and that was kind of a tough ground drill. A lot of them are having trouble getting the turns. Sometimes it's easier doing them in the air, it makes more sense, the movements." Jekzith leans his muzzle in to nudge gently at the girl. Hey if she wants to scratch, she can.
Jekzith might not mind the scratching, but Tyalith...? She snorts and Solla quickly drops her hand. "Sorry," she says, which covers a multitude of sins. "You get to be done soon, don't you? For the day, I mean?"
Jekzith tilts a look over at Tyalith and drops his head down to his forepaws. << Sorry! Didn't mean to poach, >> he says good-naturedly and curls a little more around his own rider, though not so muh that Paddy is blocked from view. "Yeah, going to go have a soak in the baths, then head home for a bit."
"Tyalith's tired, too," Solla says, but after a moment adds, "And so am I." Another moment passes. "There are times I wish - I wish she was old enough for her own room. It gets tiring, having all those... /bodies/ around us, all the time. Day and night. Waking and sleeping."
"Mm, some days are hard days, other ones aren't as tough," P'draig replies and leans back against Jekzith a bit more. "And yeah, when I got my first private room when I was at Tillek when I was a baker, shells that just felt like luxury. It was tiny and really basic, just a cubby really, but it was /mine/," Paddy says with a laugh, "with a door that closed and locked." He grins at likely fond memories. "Only two more months Solla and then you'll have some space to yourself. Some quiet."
Tosolla says, "And the older ones - they ought to be moving out soon too. That'll help." A little, anyway. She looks back again as Tyalith pushes to her feet, jaw gaping in a yawn that Solla echoes. "--Guess we're tireder than I thought. I'd better go get a nap in before supper. G'night, Paddy, if I don't see you before you go off-duty. C'mon, Tya-love."
"Mm, more space all around," P'draig agrees with a another grin and chuckles and the mirrored yawns. "Yeah, get some rest, okay? And I'm officially off-duty," he takes a peek up at the sun. "Yep, so Paddy is just fine. And likewise, 'Solla. Sleep well." So saying, P'draig pushes up to his feet and ambles back towards the caverns, presumably for that bath. Jekzith lets out a quiet warble of farewell for Tyalith, pushes to his feet and takes off for more flying, though this time, he goes a lot higher than just the Bowl's rim.
When: It is a spring afternoon, on day 16, month 5, turn 18 of Interval 10.
Where: Bowl/Living Cavern, Ista Weyr
What: Paddy's leading weyrlings through beginning ground drills and it's not going so well. Tosolla suggests a break. Tosolla attempts to apply her considerable charms during the break. P'draig lays down some ground-rules for the girl and also makes some facepalm-worthy assumptions.
Northwest Bowl, Ista Weyr
The afternoon light reaches far across the bowl, dancing dust motes captured by its rays. Despite the frequent traffic the bowl receives, grass stubbornly continues sending up shoots to cover some of its hard-packed dirt. Well-worn tracks lead to commonly used areas: southeast to the rest of the bowl and the inner caverns, on further northwest to the sprawling plateau of Ista Weyr. Westward, by the corrals, the bowl wall is missing; the lava flow that once tore it down now long-cooled into the grassy plain visible from here.
The remaining walls, however, are well-used, riddled with the ledges of weyrs and lined along the bottom with entrances to ground weyrs for flights, visitors, and the injured--the infirmary's curtained doorway is equally close, for those particular cases. There's also the large tunnel with its metal doors to the weyrling barracks, back to the northeast.
It's a nice afternoon out in the Bowl, springy fresh and not too humid, but getting there. P'draig's been leading the weyrlings through some preliminary ground drills, stopping often to correct movements, re-align rows and so on and so forth. "Neraset, /back/ in position," he calls out with what seems like endless patience. Jekzith paces and occasionally takes off, glides overhead to check it all out from above. Either way the brown isn't holding very still.
Tosolla waits in place with unusual patience whenever the formation needs to stop and readjust. That's perhaps the only way in which she shines: the young greenrider needs correcting as much as any other weyrling. Now she watches Jekzith soaring over while one of the blueriders has it explained to him yet again which foot is his right and which the left. "--Paddy?" she finally calls out, offering the brownrider and Neraset both little smiles just this side of coy. "Could we take a break for a little bit?"
Jekzith flies over and P'draig looks up, running a hand through his hair. Tosolla's request draws his attention and he looks through the ranks of weyrlings, takes note of the hangdog posture on many of them and B'orl who has had his feet re-arranged at least five times, nods energetically. "Please, sir, if you don't mind. It'd give me a chance to try to get this sorted in my head." Paddy nods, steps back. "Yeah, you guys look like you could use one. All right, everyone take a half hour, go get a drink, think about something /other/ than drills and formations, come back before the sun hits the top of the eyerock."
A ragged cheer comes up and most of the weyrlings scatter at a jog, leaving only Solla behind. Sometime near the end of the drill Tyalith crept out of the barracks but though she exchanges looks with her green, it's the brownrider Solla approaches, her smile broadening prettily. "Thank you, Paddy. It can get awfully confusing, trying to -do- something we've only seen written down. It must be frustrating for you, too. And Jekzith," a nod after the brown, "looks so bored."
The scattering group sees P'draig putting hands to hips and then one sneaks up to the back of his neck, rubbing as he swings his head to and fro. "Sure, 'Solla, thanks for spotting that everyone was fried. Sometimes I can get a little too heads down in getting things done." He grins over at her and eyes Jekzith with a chuckle. "It's too much holding still for him. He'd rather we were already on the ones in the air, but in the end, he's also just plain got a lot of comments for him. I need his point of view, from up there," the brownrider points up to the sky, one-fingered. "Anyway. C'mon, want to go get that drink with me? Tell me how you're holding up, overall?"
Tosolla's beam brightens still further, echoing her father's best, and she tips her head to one side while watching him still. "You're welcome. B'orl... well, he was saying earlier he didn't understand what you were trying to show him." She gives a nod to Tyalith, silently explaining how she knew. "And I'd -love- to have a drink with you. Where? Not down at the Sandbar?" Eagerness warring with uncertainty, she looks to her green again, who is calmly watching Jekzith. "The path's awfully steep for her, isn't it?"
"Ah, well I'll talk to him later, tell him it's okay to tell /me/ that too," P'draig says with a quiet chuckle. "And I can demonstrate again in a side-by-side. I've tied a weyrling's feet to mine before to walk through it, just like when you're learning to dance," he explains further with a wink over for the weyrling. Outright laughter follows at mention of the 'bar. "I wish, but no. Just the living cavern or the kitchen for today, Solla." Jekzith stretches out maple wings and then approaches Tyalith, a bright stream of mental bubbles preceding his physical approach. << Hullo! >>
"Tied his feet...?" Solla begins, only to dissolve into giggles at the explanation. "Oh, /dancing/! --Well, I suppose the kitchen will be all right." Still with that smile, she tucks her hand around his arm and beams up at him. Teasingly pouting, "I suppose you're going to say 'no wine' for me too, aren't you?" Without waiting for his answer she sighs most dramatically. "Well, if it's the only way I can get you alone...!" Tyalith considers the bubbles, popping one here and there and studying the results. << Hullo, Jekzith. I saw you flying. >>
"So long as Balinne says no wine, I'm saying no wine," P'draig says quite seriously but then he's chuckling again. "Yeah, like when you're a kid and you put your feet on top of an adult's to learn. Only you know, without the on top of part," he continues about the foot-tying. That last remark earns a sidelong look and Paddy reaches over to give Solla's hand a friendly pat. "And what do you need to get me alone for? Got a lot of problems with -- " and he tips his head Tyalith-wards, "-- that you need to talk about semi-privately?" Oh. You wish brownrider. You wish. Jekzith paints the landscape in rainbow hues as some of the bubbles pop and they release what's held inside, fragments of sunlight, snippets of daydreams, a picture of the weyrlings practicing from above. << Oh did you? Are you looking forward to getting up there? >>
Tosolla affects another pout at 'no wine' - which really does charming things to her mouth - but relaxes enough to tease, "Who -doesn't- want to get you alone, Paddy? Papa certainly does." As they head across the bowl Tyalith momentarily abandons both bubbles and brown to watch her rider and her attention's only half on Jekzith for her reply. << I did. I am looking forward to flying myself, but it will come with time. >> Leaving that aside, she focuses in on a flash of green wing released by the brown's bubble. << Who is this? I do not recognize her. >>
To his credit maybe, P'draig only grins at that remark. "He's my weyrmate, Solla," the brownrider points out good-naturedly but with teasing in his voice, "it kind of goes with the territory. Lucky him, he gets me to himself almost every night." Jekzith pushes up on all four limbs, stretching some more and tips a look up at the sky. << I think you'll like it a lot. It's always so much fun to cut through the air to spin and twirl. >> That flash is focused on and brought out and Jekzith pulls up a full-formed memory of Tiasheth. << Tiasheth. She is a very good friend. Very sweet-tempered and her rider likes P'draig very much. I enjoy flying with her. >> Something amusedly canny in that remark.
"And who /else/...?" Solla begins, only to cut herself off with a glance backwards at her green. She's quiet then for a handful of steps, amusing herself by trying to stretch her legs to match his. "Do you ever get tired of it? Of us, I mean? Weyrlings?" Tyalith studies Tiasheth with her usual solemnity, as though she'll be tested later. << I think I will enjoy flying with her as well, >> she decides finally. << Just as there will be some I will not enjoy flying with. >>
"Paige, but you knew that," P'draig says conversationally. "As for the rest, well, it's not polite to kiss and tell now is it?" He winks over at the girl and tilts a look over his shoulder, unconsciously slowing a little for her shorter legs. "Hmm? Oh, no, not really. I mean I got almost a full turn's break from it and to be honest, I didn't know what to do with myself without it after a bit. Felt all strange. The break was good, because yeah, it's a pretty stressful job, though a little less so in an Interval." Jekzith takes that in and flashes bright, warm colors Tyalith's way. << Oh I think you will. She's very friendly. I don't know many that I don't like flying with. But you're right, that happens. >> P'draig is quiet for a few paces as they near the entrance to the caverns. "So listen, Solla, I know you've known your father all your life and me for a little while, and when we're off-duty, still calling me 'Paddy' is fine, but in lessons and things, a 'sir' or 'P'draig' might be a good idea, so that your classmates don't get the feeling like we're favoring you somehow. See what I mean?"
Tosolla hops and skips to keep pace. "I meant -Papa-," she grins and attempts to bump her hip into his leg before falling back into a boringly sedate walk. "He says you're too... too busy? --Just sometimes," she hastens to add, leaping to Mic's defense. "And he says he doesn't mind, if you're happy, Paddy." In case the brownrider was seeking her approval or something. But then he's chewing her out and she slows further, looking away in an attempt to hide her scowl. "I'm not, though, and you don't. They're wherries if they think so." Tyalith brightens to be agreed with and pops another bubble curiously. << What is in here? Why do you hide them? >>
"Mm, goes both ways, 'Solla," P'draig murmurs with another quiet chuckle, slants another sideways look over at the girl. "I think Mic and I are pretty damn happy, yeah. No complaints here," he notes, bemused at that note of approval in her tone. The scowl lifts one of his hands, nudging at her upper arm in a friendly fist. "C'mon, help us out here, 'Solla. You're a rider now and you need to follow the rules just like everyone else." It's not so much chewing out as wheedling but with an undertone of 'that's the way it is'. Pop. Inside that next bubble of Jekzith's, high masts and blue skies and the tang of salty sea air, cooler by far than Ista. << Don't you like surprises, Tyalith? >>
"I'm not -really- a rider," she pouts, not quite whining. "Tyalith's too small. And I listen to everything anyone says -and- I do it!" as though that will somehow give her a pass. "Anyway, it feels stupid to call Papa 'sir'." Solla kicks at an inoffensive rock and casts another through-her-lashes look up at the brownrider. "And Paddy suits you better." The little green doesn't give the salt-and-masts much attention, instead waiting for the next offering. << I like -knowing- better. Surprises are good sometimes, but not all the time, Tosolla says, and I agree with her. >>
"Mm, and you'll stay a weyrling longer than everyone else with an attitude like that," P'draig points out, voice mild, "and you've been doing /such/ a good job so far too. It'd be a pity it would." The brownrider's hand shifts, making to rest lightly on her shoulder. "I know Solla. I think we were both a little worried about you Impressing and both of us being in charge of you. I mean it's got to be hard having to 'sir' Mic," he continues sympathetically. "You can all me Paddy all you want when I'm not teaching or on duty keeping an eye on the Barracks." Jekzith just grins mentally and blows rosy-gold clouds Tyalith's way. << I like making surprises. But showing is good too. Here. >> He 'tugs' gently to bring her along with him, dragon's eye perspective of flying up and up high, with the feeling of wind against hide and sun warming all around, Ista falling away below. The cold snap of Between and the approach to Tillek and its high cliffs, with fishermen casting nets over the sides of those ships.
Solla accuses, "I know what you're doing," but leans into that touch on her arm anyway. "You aren't going to send me away, are you? Up to the Reaches, or Fort?!" Grabbing his hand in both of hers she makes her eyes big at him, ignoring the looks they're getting from people passing by. Tyalith clouds over, not nearly as entertained as she could be, should be, by the impromptu travelogue. << Where is Tosolla? >> Not at Tillek, certainly.
"Clever then, aren't you?" P'draig compliments, brows quirking as she exclaims so and grabs his hand. "Huh? Shells, no. Couldn't even if I wanted to," the brownrider replies, looking a little flummoxed. Jekzith's mind rings with merriment. << Bring her with you, and then we can take her back. In your mind, you know. If you were flying for real she would be on your back. >> And he shares the feeling of rider and dragon flying /together/.
Tosolla says, "I thought you meant...," and frowns, looking back to the bowl. After a second, and in a lightning-quick topic change she declares, "--Let's get something to drink. Tyalith's... she's unhappy? I think? Something. Do I have to go back to her? Pa...." She catches herself with another frown and says deliberately, "/T'mic/ says we should start working on being away from them. Her." Tyalith twists about physically as well as mentally, trying to see the -thing- on her back that is/isn't Tosolla. << That is not her! She is... I saw her go. She cannot go /and/ be here! >>
"Hm?" P'draig now just looks confused for a second then hitches his thumb backwards towards Jekzith. "Oh what he was showing her?" And then he's look backing too. "Ohhh, yeah, separation." He comes to a halt and nods. "Turn back around and let her see where you're going, think about where it is in relation to where she is, and show her that it's not far. If she wants she can come across the Bowl with Jekzith and they can wait just outside." Jekzith has soothing blues to offer next. << Sorry, that was imagining things that will be and aren't yet, >> the brown observes philosophically. << Right /now/ she is right /there/. >> And his head turns in the direction of their riders. << P'draig says we may follow if we like, but they are going inside. Not far. It will be all right, you will be able to feel her the whole time and I am right here with you. >>
Tosolla shakes her head with another frown. "I'm not sure what. Something about... being here and not-here and flying? Only she didn't like it." Her frown deepens but she eels away from the brownrider and back to the entrance of the living cavern where Tyalith can see, giving an unnecessary wave. << I do not understand you, >> the green says with a touch of petulance though she settles again once Tosolla is discovered to be not at Tillek at all. << But she is there, and I think I will stay here. >> A beat. << Unless I want to go there later. She says I may. >>
"Yeah, he was taking her for a fly-along, just make-believe like," P'draig says with interest, head cocked to the side as he trades thoughts with Jekzith. "Huh. Apparently she didn't like that one bit." He nods though as Tosolla waves, lets Tyalith see her. << That's all right, it's just pictures, >> the brown explains and settles down in place as Tyalith makes her plans plain. << Everything is right then. >>
Solla lingers a moment longer before returning to P'draig's side, her hand reaching for the brownrider's. "Is that what it was? She couldn't explain it very...." Her free hand waves at her head. "I think you and Papa are better at... at listening? to them. At least, Papa never doesn't not know what Aath wants, and I think you're the same with Jekzith." Tyalith thinks that over before deciding, << Yes. You may fly again, if you want, and I will watch you. >>
P'draig gives Solla's hand a brief squeeze. "Good job reassuring her," he says encouragingly and starts back towards the caverns entrance. "Yeah? Well for me, Jekzith's always been really really close. He's a constant hum in the background, just beneath thought and Aath and your Papa, well let's just say that he used to fall asleep when she did whether it was bedtime or not." He grins over at Tosolla hands heading for his pockets. "So I don't know that it's that we're better or just that that's the way Aath and Jek are with us. "What's it like for you and Tyalith?" Jekzith's got merry, bright, jangly colors in his head now and he floats a bubble her way to pop. << Sure. How high would you like me to go? >>
Tosolla casts another look at him but says, "Thank you," primly before squeezing his hand back. "--That's what he's said about her. He's told some of the others, and I overheard. But isn't that...." She struggles to find the words, finally settling on, "He tells the others to -not- be like that. But he is. And so are you, I think? So... why is that bad?" Her green pretends to ignore the bubble, though there's a brightening about it that betrays her interest. << You may go... as high as the edge, >> she decides magnanimously. << So I can see you. >>
"Mm, at first it was too close," P'draig explains, "and Balinne taught him how to separate enough so that there was Mic and Aath instead of ... MicAath," he too reaches for the right way to say things. "For me it's more that Jekzith was always /there/, but it didn't affect me quite the same way as Aath did your Papa. Jekzith just needs to be a part of everything. It took a little getting used to but we pretty much just ride shotgun in each other's heads all the time, but it's a focus thing. I can choose to focus on him or not and the same with him. So most of the time, I always know what he's thinking at least on an -- well I guess an instinctive level. But we're only /that/ close like the falling asleep bit, when we let each other be, or when he's chasing in a flight." Bounce, bounce, bounce, the bubble floats along bouncily, clear but shot through with rainbows and it holds an image of her rider as Jekzith sees her. << Okay! >> agreed-to readily enough as suddenly maple wings spread wide, reach for a draft and up goes the brown, flying in fun zig zags upward and as he gets higher indulging in loop-de-loops.
"I thought Fadra was his weyrlingmaster?" Solla tries to bump their hips again, paying no mind to those eyes who note her knot and his and frown. "But I suppose that makes sense. Some of what he's said before makes more sense now." Now that she has Tyalith, that is. "--Do you want juice? I could go get a couple of glasses, if you wanted to find chairs."
P'draig doesn't quite step away, but he doesn't let that bump land either. "She was but Balinne helped out I guess. She's good at explaining things, breaking them down, the Weyrlingmaster is. Really, she may be relatively new at this, but I can't complain at all about the choice. She'll be good at this," Paddy says confidently of Balinne. Inside the cavern, he bobs his head in an affirmative. "Sure, juice works, I'll grab the table and chairs. And Solla - you're a far cry from Neraset, but maybe ease up on the flirting a bit, hm? I'm your teacher, not a prospect." There's a warm smile though to take any sting out of the words as P'draig threads a path through to find one of the smaller tables and makes sure there's two chairs turned properly towards it. He flops down into one of these, sets elbows onto the table and props his chin on his hands, letting his mind wander apparently while Tosolla fetches the drinks.
"Papa said Fadra was really good," Solla says to defend the other brownrider, though she immediately softens it with, "But I think Balinne is good, too." She tries for another bump and fails, fish-mouths at him for his correction. She almost says something but thinks better of it, instead marching away stiff-backed and offended as a wet cat. The worst of her mood - or at least the outward signs of it - have gone by the time she returns and hands over one glass to Paddy before slipping into the other chair. "Papa says Neraset doesn't have any subtlety. I have to agree."
"Fadra's good too, nice and strict," P'draig says as Tosolla huffs away, and then he's sitting there looking thoughtful, until she returns and he nods thanks for the glass of juice. "Thanks, Solla." There's a little pause as he takes a sip before he responds. "Neraset, is too full of herself to be subtle," is Paddy's assessment. "I think she thinks people want her to do what she does. And she doesn't realize how off-putting it is." Gray-blue eyes focus on hers and that thoughtful expression of his is back. "You've got a better idea of how to do it right than she does, but I've been in trouble before for flirting with the wrong girl, Solla and you're Mic's daughter to boot, so if you could cut me a little break, I'd appreciate it."
"She's pretty enough," T'mic's daughter agrees of the blonde, solemn as if they were discussing upcoming Thread. "But I haven't been -that- bad since I was -thirteen-." And she's just ever so much older now. She sips at her drink, eyes twinkling at the brownrider over the rim, but sobers and and sets the glass down with a thunk and nearly a slosh. "Well, I... But you're -cute-! --Handsome," she corrects immediately. "Anyway, I don't think Papa'd mind. Tyalith would, at least for a few more months, but you don't mean I have to stop for -months-, do you?"
"Mm, if you like blondes," P'draig says with some amusement and has another sip from the glass Tosolla passed him. His gaze settles on her face again and that amusement seems to grow. "Take after your Papa, don't you?" he tells her with a hint of fondness in his voice. "Thanks, but it's not about your father, Solla. It's not right, because I'm one of your weyrlingmasters. So yeah, months. Until after you get tapped."
Tosolla brightens for the compliment - both of them. "He says I do, anyway. Mella doesn't. But she's young, still." Thus dismissing her next-youngest sister, she collects her glass again for another sip. "Oh, so you -would-...? Or aren't I supposed to ask? Or," she adds, laughing now, "Aren't you supposed to tell me?"
"Like father, like daughter," P'draig breathes out with a little shake of his head and has another long gulp of his juice. "He chased after me for ages, you know?" Conversational that. "And then I dunked him in the ocean and he stopped for a while." Beat. "And now we're weyrmates. Go figure." That series of questions earns a /look/. "We get along, we flirt around sometimes, it's fun to play the game. No game while you're a weyrling. As for follow-through, you're /way/ too young for that."
Tosolla can be magnanimous in her triumph - or at least when she thinks she's won - and settles back into her chair with a smug little smile. "I think I remember that. I asked him once how you'd met. He said he didn't remember, really, but the time he remembered best was when you dunked him. Something about being drunk, and you and this other brownrider...?" Clearly fishing, that still doesn't stop her from pouting at him for his declaration. "I'm not /either/, but that's all I'm going to say about it. Tyalith'd be upset."
"He doesn't remember. Heh. Go figure," P'draig murmurs under his breath and looks across at his weyrmate's daughter. "T'rien was the other brownrider. Seliene's brother. Seliene kind of said that Mic wasn't treating her right and we were all a little drunk and T'rien and I thought your dad needed a lesson about not whining about not getting any because Seliene was a weyrling. It was silly." He turns his glass to and fro, thoughtful again. "We actually met when he was still a weyrling and his weyrlingmaster took him to Fort on a training jump." The pout only earns a grin. "You're not even sixteen yet and I hope that that's one thing you /won't/ be following in your father's footsteps about. Take your time, Solla."
Solla defends her father immediately - no surprise there. "Papa remembers the important things. And -I- know about Seliene." From the scowl, not with fondness. "All Papa'll say about her is that he wished it'd gone better, but that probably means she was just /awful/ to him." Still grumpy, she cradles her glass like it was the other greenrider's neck. "What, do you mean having children? I know about that - and I don't want any, not yet. Not for a long while, if at all."
"I know he goes," P'draig says with a grin. "That wasn't meant as a slam. Your Papa and I, we're pretty aware of each other's strengths and weaknesses and we love each other in spite of ... or I dunno, maybe even because of them." The expression about Seliene earns a lopsided grin. "They wanted different things. She wanted more of a traditional weyrmating with kids and everything. Your father ... well, what we've got him and me, I don't think it could've worked out any better." There's a little nod, but also a shake of his head. "Yeah kids, but what you do to get them too." He cocks a look towards the Bowl, maybe checking on not-visible Tyalith. "But that's a conversation for a few months from now when Tyalith's less sensitive.
Tosolla waits P'draig out with all the patience of a teenager, even going so far as to not roll her eyes. "I /know/ about all of that," she says again, having more juice. "Faranth, Paddy!" She glances around quickly to ensure a lack of frowners for her language and leans in. "I'm not a virgin, even if Tyalith is. But I'm not going to do anything to upset her. I'm not even going to do anything to upset /you/," she adds, teasing again.
At this point all P'draig can do is facepalm, dragging his hand long over his face and mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like 'chip off the old block'. "Okay then, serves me right for assuming," he finally says more audibly and gulps down the last of his juice. "It's not that the flirting upsets me, Solla. It's just not /right/. I can't flirt back. Shells, even your Papa would agree with me on this one."
Tosolla pouts again, but it's back to the flirty, teasing sort. "I bet he wouldn't. And it's all right, Paddy." She reaches out as if to pat his arm but thinks better of it, and lets her hand lie between them instead. "You can just save up all the flirting you can't do, and unleash it all on me at the end. Or you could just aim it at Papa. I bet he wouldn't mind."
"No, he's got a pretty firm grasp of weyrling and weyrlingmaster too, Solla," P'draig says firmly. "It's just something you don't mess with, from either side. All of you learning what you need to, is too important to muddy up with that kind of thing." He grins a little wanly for that extended hand and then his eyes get a hint of a twinkle to them. "Tosolla, my very dear girl, your Papa is getting a whole /hell/ of a lot more than flirting at least twice a day and no, I don't think he minds." Humorous for that, followed by a laugh. "All right it's a deal, I'll save it all up. Because I /have/ thought of a couple of pretty clever one-liners."
The girl pouts again then sighs, smile reappearing on her face like she's being determinedly cheerful. "All right, save it up. Because I expect -something- the day after I'm tapped to a wing. Or maybe that same day, if it's early enough." She pushes back into her chair to gather her glass to her chest, feet swinging ever so slightly beneath the table while she watches the brownrider. "How old were you when you Impressed, anyway?"
P'draig tips back a little in his chair, looking towards the angle of the sun in the cavern's entrance. "Time to head back," he notes and then looks back across at Tosolla. "I'll write down the best one-liners, just for you," he quips with a chuckle. "Well, I Stood twice, once when I'd just turned fourteen, didn't Impress and then Jekzith found me the second time around when I was sixteen."
Tosolla follows his gaze and nods about the sun, finishing off her juice in a few quick swallows. "I was hoping to get them delivered a little more personally," she says, and to her credit, without much flirtatiousness. "You're a good match, the two of you. You ground him, but you're both very... happy. You know?"
"That's just to remind me," P'draig answers, grin flashing bright for a moment as he gets to his feet, lingers by the chair, one hand resting on the top back rail. "Yeah. I know. We're lucky," he says simply. "After everything, we've found each other. It's good to finally feel at home." His head tilts towards the exit though. "C'mon, time to go. But why did you want to know about when I Impressed?"
Tosolla grins, eerily like her Papa, and hops to her feet. "I meant you and Jekzith, but I suppose it works for you and Papa, too. T'mic," she adds with another eyeroll for those omni-present pedants. "I was just wondering if you can tell the difference between someone who Impressed in their teens, like us, or someone older, like my Papa."
"Oh!" P'draig laughs sheepishly. "Yeah, I don't know that many pairs who aren't a good match. Maybe the only one that sticks out really is my mother and her green, but they worked it out over time." He starts to amble on outward. "I think that it's not that noticeable later on," Paddy says thoughtfully, hands in pockets again, chin dropped to chest. "But overall, older weyrlings seem to have an easier time handling a lot of it. They're more willing to ... make the sacrifices that they need to and have the maturity and knowledge of themselves to handle the bond better. It's not a given every time and sometimes it can be a struggle, because most people over sixteen or so had lives, a path, a craft, something." P'draig pauses on the threshold, looking outward towards where Jekzith is still doing crazy acrobatics, dipping in and out of sight. "Me, I'm glad I didn't Impress the first time. I barely knew who I was and what I wanted out of life. It was good to have those two turns to figure it out and make the choice to be a rider with my eyes wide open."
"I don't think I knew your Mama was - is? - a greenrider," Solla says as she falls into step beside P'draig again, this time not trying to lace her arm through his. Good Weyrling. "Did she Impress when she was older too? Is everyone in your family a rider? --No, Papa says you have a couple of brothers and sisters who aren't riders. Right?"
"Emilly, green Sionath's, still," P'draig answers affirmatively. "And my Da's a bronzerider and my Papa's a brownrider." He tilts an approving look over at Solla for her restraint. "She was twenty I think, Stood twice too, had me in between clutches," Paddy explains. "And no, there's riders on both sides going back generations as far as I know, but also a bunch of Baker blood. I have one full-blooded brother, he's a harper and uh -- well he's weyrmated to my son's mother. My half-sisters are a Smith and the Headwoman at the Reaches. I've got a lot of other half-siblings through my Da. He sleeps around a lot." Casual that last.
As they return to the bowl Tyalith stops watching the acrobatic brown - for a moment only, but long enough to place -her- girl as is right and proper. Then, reassured, her head tilts to the sky again. "So you're the only rider in your generation," her rider says with a little nod to settle the information. "I didn't know that about Jaivery - and isn't it funny? You have Jaivery, and Chadamalith has Javeri."
Jekzith turns and twirls and P'draig just grins upward fondly then tips a look downward at Tosolla as they cross the Bowl back to the dragons and the slowly collecting class. "Yep. Though Millie might go for it, but she's decided it's not for her. And well, she's closer to your age than to mind, not even twenty yet." He ambles along for a pace or two, laughs and nods. "Yeah, they're not quite pronounced the same way, those two names. But yeah. Vrys had a crush on me and was friends with my brother and then our browns lost a flight together and boom, there you go, nine months later, we had a Jaivery. Vrys and I don't -- always see eye to eye about him though and overall, she and my brother fit together better." Beat. "Miss her sometimes though. She had a way about her ... and incredible green eyes." The brownrider's voice trails off, tone fond.
"Did she ever get Searched, though?" Solla asks of Millie, rising up onto her toes to watch Jekzith for a few dancing steps. "--He loves flying, doesn't he. Papa - /T'mic/ - has to really ask to get Aath to do that." Back on her heels, she grins up at the brownrider. "And your brother isn't my Papa, to share? --You can't answer that," she adds immediately, grimacing broadly. "So you don't like blondes, but you do like green eyes. That's good to know."
"Wouldn't need to, not with two parents riders and living at the Weyr all her life," P'draig says with a little look sideways. "She could have just asked any time. But no, no Search." He's watching Jekzith again, nodding. "Oh yeah, made for it, I mean look at him. He can give a lot of blues a run for their money in the air." He gestures loosely then blinks over at Tosolla. "To share?" And he's still blanking in spite of the grimace. "Oh I like blondes just fine. And redheads. And brunettes." Paddy just laughs about the green eyes. "It's more personality than looks for me. That or just friendly, willing and un-demanding after a flight." Beat. "If you're after what I like in a woman, strong, funny, but sweet."
Tosolla doesn't explain what she meant about sharing - darn weyrling rules. Instead it's, "But you said Neraset was blonde...?" before another Mic-like grin takes possession of her face. "You -are- like papa. But I'm not asking anymore because Tyalith wants to know what we're talking about." She settles for a few steps, mimicing seriousness quite reliably until the green - though she looks suspicious - places her head on her forelegs.
"Yeah it's Neraset's attitude that's the problem. I mean, I can still appreciate the fact that she's a damn fine looking girl. It's just that things get ugly the minute she opens her mouth," the brownrider states a little bluntly and laughs, shrugs. "Not quite as uh -- outgoing as your father. But I don't hold back all the time either," he murmurs quietly just as they reach the green. "Heya Tyalith, all good here? See, brought her back safe and sound," P'drag says for the green's benefit. Jekzith, reluctantly comes down from the sky and settles in for a landing.
Tosolla, true to her word, only gives the brownrider a bright smile for his explanation. She crosses over to her green, hands reaching for Tyalith's muzzle, and for a little while the two are lost in communion. "She says thank you, and she stopped being worried after a little," Solla reports over her shoulder. "She's very... balanced. She's lovely." And for her loveliness Tyalith gets a kiss, right between her eyes.
"That she is," P'draig answers with a loose grin, then walks over to Jekzith to give him a good scratch between the headknobs before his voice is lifting again. "All right weyrlings, form up, let's see if we can get this going. I'm going to turn around and walk through it again from your point of view, anyone who doesn't get it still, hand up and I'll come around to stomp through it with you side by side."
Tyalith snorts indulgently and sends Solla back to stomp through formations. She pauses at B'orl's side to whisper something and offer an encouraging smile; the bluerider's return smile is more pained. Then she outright grins at Neraset's flouncing into position, and how the blonde stares hard at P'draig before deliberately flipping her hair.
Neraset is likely deliberately ignored as P'draig turns around to walk through the demonstration again. When he's done he turns around to see hands raised, among them Neraset's. It's B'orl that the brownrider heads for first though, standing right next to the blueriding weyrling and patiently walking him through it side-by-side so he can make his feet do what Paddy's do. Some of the 'older' weyrlings come in off of another exercise and the weyrlingmaster begs the favor from some of them to mentor the 'younger' ones and Neraset gets stuck with Gertru, who is very nice but wears glasses and has her hair cut short like a boy, for a demo partner. << It's hard to sit and watch them, >> Jekzith notes to Tyalith with a little mental sigh and takes off after a while to cruise about overhead while P'draig continues to work the group for another hour and a half before calling it quits for the day.
Though Solla grimaces at Gertru she accepts the older weyrling's presence with a little 'what can you do' shrug. Finally - eventually - the class breaks up, B'orl retreating straight back to the barracks. Tosolla lingers for a while, chatting with Gertru and watching with surreptitious grin while Neraset tries again - and fails - to catch P'draig's eye. Finally Neraset flounces off and Tyalith takes this as a prime opportunity to leave her spot and claim the center of what used to be the weyrling formation. Solla joins her, and the pair watch P'draig and Jekzith.
Even though Neraset is mostly trying to ignore Gertru, eventually even she has to give in and take the instruction, tucking her hair behind her ears and paying attention until the group manages to limp through a full iteration of the drill. Every time Neraset sticks out her chest, flips her hair or makes eyes at him, Paddy deflects by either being very answering questions, or once Jekzith is down, tending to his brown. With the class dispersing, he actually sits on Jekzith's forearm and leans back, rubbing at his jaw and looking a little tired. B'ryce has turned up and corrals many of the departing weyrlings for some q & a on other things. Jekzith's head drops, curling protectively towards P'draig and his rider smiles upward, hand running along the brown's jaw. "Yeah, I'm okay, buddy," he murmurs quietly.
Tosolla gives B'ryce a bright smile, and since she's not trying to flee the area, manages not to get scooped up by the bluerider. She crosses over to join Paddy instead, a hesitant hand not quite touching the brown's hide. "You all right?" she too would like to know, one eye remaining on Tyalith.
Up come P'draig's eyes and a smile forms up, a nod forming up. "Yeah, just a little tired. Been up since before dawn and that was kind of a tough ground drill. A lot of them are having trouble getting the turns. Sometimes it's easier doing them in the air, it makes more sense, the movements." Jekzith leans his muzzle in to nudge gently at the girl. Hey if she wants to scratch, she can.
Jekzith might not mind the scratching, but Tyalith...? She snorts and Solla quickly drops her hand. "Sorry," she says, which covers a multitude of sins. "You get to be done soon, don't you? For the day, I mean?"
Jekzith tilts a look over at Tyalith and drops his head down to his forepaws. << Sorry! Didn't mean to poach, >> he says good-naturedly and curls a little more around his own rider, though not so muh that Paddy is blocked from view. "Yeah, going to go have a soak in the baths, then head home for a bit."
"Tyalith's tired, too," Solla says, but after a moment adds, "And so am I." Another moment passes. "There are times I wish - I wish she was old enough for her own room. It gets tiring, having all those... /bodies/ around us, all the time. Day and night. Waking and sleeping."
"Mm, some days are hard days, other ones aren't as tough," P'draig replies and leans back against Jekzith a bit more. "And yeah, when I got my first private room when I was at Tillek when I was a baker, shells that just felt like luxury. It was tiny and really basic, just a cubby really, but it was /mine/," Paddy says with a laugh, "with a door that closed and locked." He grins at likely fond memories. "Only two more months Solla and then you'll have some space to yourself. Some quiet."
Tosolla says, "And the older ones - they ought to be moving out soon too. That'll help." A little, anyway. She looks back again as Tyalith pushes to her feet, jaw gaping in a yawn that Solla echoes. "--Guess we're tireder than I thought. I'd better go get a nap in before supper. G'night, Paddy, if I don't see you before you go off-duty. C'mon, Tya-love."
"Mm, more space all around," P'draig agrees with a another grin and chuckles and the mirrored yawns. "Yeah, get some rest, okay? And I'm officially off-duty," he takes a peek up at the sun. "Yep, so Paddy is just fine. And likewise, 'Solla. Sleep well." So saying, P'draig pushes up to his feet and ambles back towards the caverns, presumably for that bath. Jekzith lets out a quiet warble of farewell for Tyalith, pushes to his feet and takes off for more flying, though this time, he goes a lot higher than just the Bowl's rim.