Log: Talk with Balinne
Who: Balinne, P'draig
When: Evening, day 2, month 7, turn 18 of Interval 10.
Where: Mic and Paddy's Sunset Patio Weyr, Ista Weyr
What: Paddy and Bali talk through things and work some things out about this whole Weyrlingmastering gig.
"Come on in," P'draig is saying as he pushes back the curtain that stands between ledge and weyr. "Want something a little stronger than water? I've got all sorts of things to pick from." After that initial breakdown into his chest, there were the beginning of some words and then a quiet suggestion that maybe the office and potentially-keyhole-listening weyrlings might be best avoided by slipping out. B'ryce and Fadra just keep catching the short end of the stick lately. At any rate, it's up to the weyr he shares with Mic that Paddy's brought Balinne and he bends to pick up an abandoned shirt from the ground, though the place is otherwise tidy enough for two guys living together.
No words for the shirts, though an eyebrow lifts for the relative cleanliness. Balinne nods her head, answering, "Yeah, sure. Think I've had my fill of water for the day." Zelieth has vacated the ledge, gone back to poke her head into the barracks to covertly spy on the weyrlings. Lucky weyrlings. Her eyes are still puffy, but her cheeks are dry and she's looking much saner.
"Somehow... I thought Mic's weyr would be a bit more..." but no words seem to come to mind.
"Okay, brandy, whiskey ... ummm fruit stuff ..." P'draig's going through the bottles on a shelf and looks over his shoulder at her curiously, then grins. "Oh, what, maybe more like, den of iniquity?" the brownrider asks and sets down two glasses on the table, crooks a finger and moves towards the door to the bedroom. "There. More like that?" Because the bed is enormous and decked out and has a wicker settee with gauzy fabric draped across it. "That brown couch there was mine from Fort," he notes, leaning against the wall. "Got the paler one here to match it so to speak even if they're not the same color."
"No, more... well. Glittery things?" But Balinne giggles at the very thought, though it's a half-hearted sort of giggle. "Oh my," she says of the bed, leaning gently to the side to see it better. "Mismatched. It has character," she decides, sliding into one of the chairs. "Fruity. I don't think whiskey would be a good idea right now. "It's... a rather nice weyr, actually. Much larger than my own."
"Heh, yeah, just the fabric in there and all the spangles in Aath's mind. Her stuff in the wallow. She's the one into glitter really." Paddy moves back to the table, gets down the bottle of raspberry liquor and pours about half the glass full, cuts it with some clear stuff and a little water, mixes that up and brings the glass over to Balinne. "I guess it sort of speaks to the two of us coming together, bringing different things to the relationship. Shows in the furniture as much as in the emotions and everything," Paddy muses thoughtfully and though she turned whiskey down, he pours himself some, settles across from her on the dark one of the two couches, lounging back comfortably. "Yeah. Told Mic if I was coming here I wanted a space with room for Palia and with the bedroom separate. So he put in for it." His mouth pulls to the side wryly. "My weyr at Fort was bigger, with a bathing room. They pamper the Weyrlingmaster over there."
"Thanks." That's for the drink, Balinne taking the offered glass. "It does make sense," she agrees of the furniture. A little sip of her drink, a glance down, then Balinne's eyes follow P'draig until he's sitting down. "A bath?" The very idea of a bath in a weyr distracts Balinne from the intended conversation. "Much nicer than mine. I just have a tiny room. Bed, small table and two chairs, and a giant wardrobe that came with it."
"Sure," about the drink and P'draig tips up his glass, takes a sip of whiskey, rolls it around in his mouth. "Yeah. Nice bath too. Miss that a lot," he says with a little chuckle. "Very convenient when you've got a baby to raise." His smile across at her is warm and he nods. "Yeah, Ista's smaller, not as cushy as Fort. But it's warm all year around. And well, Mic's here," a little shrug as if that explains all. More whiskey down and gray-blue eyes are lifting to her face, taking in the still-puffy cheeks, the hint of red to her nose. "Feeling a little steadier anyway?" Pulling them back to it, albeit gently.
"I'd imagine." About the baby this time. Balinne gives a glance towards that curtained off niche, but her gaze doesn't linger. Instead she takes another sip of her drink and nods her head gently. "Little bit, yeah." But her lips purse briefly, looking serious. "I think I am all right now."
"Yeah. Palia was so sick when she was little ..." P'draig sighs softly, has another bigger sip from his glass. "Good," Fort's former weyrlingmaster says to Ista's current one. "Scared me there a little, Bali," he continues, tone light, but too much so. "What brought that all on, though? I mean, hm, I had some rough spots when I first caught the knot," Paddy shares willingly, "couple of days where I sat there staring at the walls wondering what the heck I was thinking when I said yes to Jenna."
"It's not... like that," Balinne tries to explain. "First of all... I'm a girl," and she even grins about it. "We handle stress a bit differently... I just happen to cry. Not a lot just..." a one-shouldered shrug. A slow breath out, Balinne's fingers curling around her glass as she just holds it. No more sipping for the moment. "It's just stressful... you know? So much pressure. So much responsibility. But I can't be... afraid. I can't let them know that sometimes... I have /no/ clue what I'm doing. So I just kind of... stuff it way down in my head and don't think about it."
"Heh, yeah, I get that," P'draig says with an easy shrug of his own, has another drink. "And yeah, I know." There's a pause and he tilts his glass to and fro. "Would you believe that actually ... I did let them know? When I was barely twenty and younger than some of them and supposed to train them. I copped to it. MIght've been a mistake, I don't know. Ask R'us maybe if you ever meet him. He was my assistant and Fort and still helps out the Weyrlingmaster there now." His eyes lift back up to her, smile sliding towards wry. "That's my style though and it's kind of a strange balance to keep, I guess. I learned something about dancing close enough to be the arm they lean on, but not so much so that they didn't respect me or take me seriously when I laid down the law about something." He takes a long, slow breath. "If you need that though, that strong front and it's starting to get to you, come talk to me? Let it out instead of stuffing it down. The least I can do is just lesson and make sympathetic noises."
Her brows knit together, her gaze distant. Balinne twirls that glass in her hands idly, slow enough not to slosh the drink inside. "No, no," she decides adamantly. "Can't tell them. I mean... they're relying on me - us, really. The whole team - to train them right. If they knew that sometimes I just.. make it up as I go, the whole thing would fall apart. There'd be no trust. They'd wonder why I was Weyrlingmaster. There'd be even more..." shrug. "Well. It wouldn't work." Finally that glass is lifted again, sipped. She makes a brief face for the now-warmed liquid. "Sympathetic noises," and it makes her smirk a little, though it's a wry and sarcastic thing. "Don't you think that would make things worse? You admitted before... I mean. If you saw every little stumble I make, every time I question myself... I mean, wouldn't you start to question why I had the knot? Why you were answering to me, and not the other way around?"
"Yeah, they are, but sometimes extending trust, letting people see your weaknesses, it's letting yourself be vulnerable, that can earn trust in turn, see?" P'draig tries to explain his perspective. "It doesn't mean letting them walk all over you, but they don't need to see you as the invulnerable Weyrlingmaster who can do no wrong, to respect you and listen to what you have to say. Sometimes, knowing that you were just like they were once can make all the difference in the world." He smiles in the middle though about the noises. "Well, you know what I mean, it's what we're here for, all of us assistants, and well, we're friends, beyond that too, so, here if you need me, whichever way." He offers that seadfastedly then takes a breath, shakes his head. "No, not necessarily, because in the end we're all just human beings doing our best. Sometimes it's better to admit a mistake, than not. I'm not saying that's definitely the case here, just it can be that way. And this job, it doesn't have to be a front you're putting on all the time."
Balinne gives him a grateful but mild smile. "It's just not the way I can do things. I need to remain teacher, not friend. I don't mind being a shoulder, or lending an ear, but I can't expect the same in return until they are real Riders. They need to know that I am in control, to provide the stability they might not feel. It wouldn't be... fair to force them to put up with my vulnerability, to try and encourage me. It's my job to encourage them." Her glass lifts again, rests briefly against her lips, and then is sipped from again. "I think I will keep my breakdowns for those that don't rely on me keeping them alive for the next Turn. I have you. I have Madge. I am not alone." She offers another little smile. "I'll try not to keep it all to myself." A little pause, Balinne studying the brownrider for a moment. "Do you regret your decision to be an assistant?"
"Mentor more than friend, really, but -- I take the point," P'draig concedes. "It's not forcing though, just being yourself, but if that's how you need to play it, all the more reason to lean on us, me, Mic, Fadra, B'ryce, when you need to. So you don't combust, yeah." More liquor down the hatch and he nods. "Definitely not alone," he agrees, gives that question due consideration. "Not regret, maybe just questioning whether or not it was the right thing to do. Maybe it was selfish of me to want to jump back in so soon. I was Weyrlingmaster at Fort for so long, sometimes it's hard to curb the instincts and patterns of ten turns, built up over time. So it's more -- I guess I have to remember better to follow your lead and support you, as a member of your team."
She's steadier now, the only sign of her early breakdown being red and puffy eyes. But the set of her jaw is normal, and her gaze is steady. Balinne listens, a little twitch of her lips as they agree to disagree on fronts. Her glass is repetitively sipped from, more from lack of anything else to do with it, than a desire to drink any. "Well... why did you agree? Was it because you were bored? Or was it because you thought it would benefit the Weyrlings?" wonders Balinne idly. More consideration is given before she decides, "Is that so hard? I mean... look at this situation. Comparatively... it was pretty mild. What if you disagree about something bigger? I'll be honest, Paddy, I don't want to lose you as an assistant weyrlingmaster, but I don't want to put either of us in an uncomfortable situation, either. I just... I guess I just want to know what you're thinking."
"Not bored," P'draig shakes his head, turns his glass to and fro some more. "But I did miss it, so there's that. And yes, I thought I'd do a good job, frankly and -- I liked the idea of working with you." His expression shades a little pained and he nods this time. "I know. I think, as long as you don't mind me being more of the supportive type and if I do that kind of thing without undermining you, we'll be okay. And in the end, I wouldn't do that, wouldn't show you up in front of them. If I do disagree, I'll keep it to myself until we can talk about it. Not necessarily even to change your mind, but just to provide another point of view."
A little sigh and a slow nod of her head. Balinne's glass drops to her knee, resting there with both hands still around it. It's mostly empty by now, anyways. "Well. I do like having you around. I certainly have no problem with you being more... supportive, more friendly, than I am. Everyone has their own way, right?" A little grin. "And hopefully this will be the only thing we disagree on." A shift, Balinne sitting up a little straighter. "I do think I snapped, but I don't think it was without cause. Lost my temper, but... I stand by my decisions. But I do think I could have handled it differently."
"Like being around," P'draig answers with a faint smile of his own. "And they do. And hopefully, yeah." His head inclines for that admission. "Mm. Like I said, I don't disagree that Avey needs to kind of get over it, put her head down and do the work. Just the other two. Anyway, lesson learned all around, I guess. Them. Me. You." His glass lifts and he tosses back the last of the contents, leans forward, hand extended. "Just have to keep going, keep trying to sort it all out and know that no matter what, no matter what we disagree on, still friends."
Balinne's eyebrows lift ever-so-slightly for lessons learned. "Well. My hope is that climbing a wall will teach her something, as well as Neraset. I'm hoping it will... well. Toughen that girl up a little. I'm not expecting miracles, but it would be nice if she realized there's more to her than just hair and eyes. That she's got strength too." But they're done with the weyrling talk, Balinne dropping the subject. She shifts, her glass is set gently to the floor, and P'draig is given her hand. "Friends, then," she decides, her smile coming much more easily. "And that, I'm definitely glad for."
"She will, in time," P'draig says with strange confidence maybe and as Bali takes his hand, he covers it with his other, squeezes hers between the two of his. "Me too, Bali."
When: Evening, day 2, month 7, turn 18 of Interval 10.
Where: Mic and Paddy's Sunset Patio Weyr, Ista Weyr
What: Paddy and Bali talk through things and work some things out about this whole Weyrlingmastering gig.
"Come on in," P'draig is saying as he pushes back the curtain that stands between ledge and weyr. "Want something a little stronger than water? I've got all sorts of things to pick from." After that initial breakdown into his chest, there were the beginning of some words and then a quiet suggestion that maybe the office and potentially-keyhole-listening weyrlings might be best avoided by slipping out. B'ryce and Fadra just keep catching the short end of the stick lately. At any rate, it's up to the weyr he shares with Mic that Paddy's brought Balinne and he bends to pick up an abandoned shirt from the ground, though the place is otherwise tidy enough for two guys living together.
No words for the shirts, though an eyebrow lifts for the relative cleanliness. Balinne nods her head, answering, "Yeah, sure. Think I've had my fill of water for the day." Zelieth has vacated the ledge, gone back to poke her head into the barracks to covertly spy on the weyrlings. Lucky weyrlings. Her eyes are still puffy, but her cheeks are dry and she's looking much saner.
"Somehow... I thought Mic's weyr would be a bit more..." but no words seem to come to mind.
"Okay, brandy, whiskey ... ummm fruit stuff ..." P'draig's going through the bottles on a shelf and looks over his shoulder at her curiously, then grins. "Oh, what, maybe more like, den of iniquity?" the brownrider asks and sets down two glasses on the table, crooks a finger and moves towards the door to the bedroom. "There. More like that?" Because the bed is enormous and decked out and has a wicker settee with gauzy fabric draped across it. "That brown couch there was mine from Fort," he notes, leaning against the wall. "Got the paler one here to match it so to speak even if they're not the same color."
"No, more... well. Glittery things?" But Balinne giggles at the very thought, though it's a half-hearted sort of giggle. "Oh my," she says of the bed, leaning gently to the side to see it better. "Mismatched. It has character," she decides, sliding into one of the chairs. "Fruity. I don't think whiskey would be a good idea right now. "It's... a rather nice weyr, actually. Much larger than my own."
"Heh, yeah, just the fabric in there and all the spangles in Aath's mind. Her stuff in the wallow. She's the one into glitter really." Paddy moves back to the table, gets down the bottle of raspberry liquor and pours about half the glass full, cuts it with some clear stuff and a little water, mixes that up and brings the glass over to Balinne. "I guess it sort of speaks to the two of us coming together, bringing different things to the relationship. Shows in the furniture as much as in the emotions and everything," Paddy muses thoughtfully and though she turned whiskey down, he pours himself some, settles across from her on the dark one of the two couches, lounging back comfortably. "Yeah. Told Mic if I was coming here I wanted a space with room for Palia and with the bedroom separate. So he put in for it." His mouth pulls to the side wryly. "My weyr at Fort was bigger, with a bathing room. They pamper the Weyrlingmaster over there."
"Thanks." That's for the drink, Balinne taking the offered glass. "It does make sense," she agrees of the furniture. A little sip of her drink, a glance down, then Balinne's eyes follow P'draig until he's sitting down. "A bath?" The very idea of a bath in a weyr distracts Balinne from the intended conversation. "Much nicer than mine. I just have a tiny room. Bed, small table and two chairs, and a giant wardrobe that came with it."
"Sure," about the drink and P'draig tips up his glass, takes a sip of whiskey, rolls it around in his mouth. "Yeah. Nice bath too. Miss that a lot," he says with a little chuckle. "Very convenient when you've got a baby to raise." His smile across at her is warm and he nods. "Yeah, Ista's smaller, not as cushy as Fort. But it's warm all year around. And well, Mic's here," a little shrug as if that explains all. More whiskey down and gray-blue eyes are lifting to her face, taking in the still-puffy cheeks, the hint of red to her nose. "Feeling a little steadier anyway?" Pulling them back to it, albeit gently.
"I'd imagine." About the baby this time. Balinne gives a glance towards that curtained off niche, but her gaze doesn't linger. Instead she takes another sip of her drink and nods her head gently. "Little bit, yeah." But her lips purse briefly, looking serious. "I think I am all right now."
"Yeah. Palia was so sick when she was little ..." P'draig sighs softly, has another bigger sip from his glass. "Good," Fort's former weyrlingmaster says to Ista's current one. "Scared me there a little, Bali," he continues, tone light, but too much so. "What brought that all on, though? I mean, hm, I had some rough spots when I first caught the knot," Paddy shares willingly, "couple of days where I sat there staring at the walls wondering what the heck I was thinking when I said yes to Jenna."
"It's not... like that," Balinne tries to explain. "First of all... I'm a girl," and she even grins about it. "We handle stress a bit differently... I just happen to cry. Not a lot just..." a one-shouldered shrug. A slow breath out, Balinne's fingers curling around her glass as she just holds it. No more sipping for the moment. "It's just stressful... you know? So much pressure. So much responsibility. But I can't be... afraid. I can't let them know that sometimes... I have /no/ clue what I'm doing. So I just kind of... stuff it way down in my head and don't think about it."
"Heh, yeah, I get that," P'draig says with an easy shrug of his own, has another drink. "And yeah, I know." There's a pause and he tilts his glass to and fro. "Would you believe that actually ... I did let them know? When I was barely twenty and younger than some of them and supposed to train them. I copped to it. MIght've been a mistake, I don't know. Ask R'us maybe if you ever meet him. He was my assistant and Fort and still helps out the Weyrlingmaster there now." His eyes lift back up to her, smile sliding towards wry. "That's my style though and it's kind of a strange balance to keep, I guess. I learned something about dancing close enough to be the arm they lean on, but not so much so that they didn't respect me or take me seriously when I laid down the law about something." He takes a long, slow breath. "If you need that though, that strong front and it's starting to get to you, come talk to me? Let it out instead of stuffing it down. The least I can do is just lesson and make sympathetic noises."
Her brows knit together, her gaze distant. Balinne twirls that glass in her hands idly, slow enough not to slosh the drink inside. "No, no," she decides adamantly. "Can't tell them. I mean... they're relying on me - us, really. The whole team - to train them right. If they knew that sometimes I just.. make it up as I go, the whole thing would fall apart. There'd be no trust. They'd wonder why I was Weyrlingmaster. There'd be even more..." shrug. "Well. It wouldn't work." Finally that glass is lifted again, sipped. She makes a brief face for the now-warmed liquid. "Sympathetic noises," and it makes her smirk a little, though it's a wry and sarcastic thing. "Don't you think that would make things worse? You admitted before... I mean. If you saw every little stumble I make, every time I question myself... I mean, wouldn't you start to question why I had the knot? Why you were answering to me, and not the other way around?"
"Yeah, they are, but sometimes extending trust, letting people see your weaknesses, it's letting yourself be vulnerable, that can earn trust in turn, see?" P'draig tries to explain his perspective. "It doesn't mean letting them walk all over you, but they don't need to see you as the invulnerable Weyrlingmaster who can do no wrong, to respect you and listen to what you have to say. Sometimes, knowing that you were just like they were once can make all the difference in the world." He smiles in the middle though about the noises. "Well, you know what I mean, it's what we're here for, all of us assistants, and well, we're friends, beyond that too, so, here if you need me, whichever way." He offers that seadfastedly then takes a breath, shakes his head. "No, not necessarily, because in the end we're all just human beings doing our best. Sometimes it's better to admit a mistake, than not. I'm not saying that's definitely the case here, just it can be that way. And this job, it doesn't have to be a front you're putting on all the time."
Balinne gives him a grateful but mild smile. "It's just not the way I can do things. I need to remain teacher, not friend. I don't mind being a shoulder, or lending an ear, but I can't expect the same in return until they are real Riders. They need to know that I am in control, to provide the stability they might not feel. It wouldn't be... fair to force them to put up with my vulnerability, to try and encourage me. It's my job to encourage them." Her glass lifts again, rests briefly against her lips, and then is sipped from again. "I think I will keep my breakdowns for those that don't rely on me keeping them alive for the next Turn. I have you. I have Madge. I am not alone." She offers another little smile. "I'll try not to keep it all to myself." A little pause, Balinne studying the brownrider for a moment. "Do you regret your decision to be an assistant?"
"Mentor more than friend, really, but -- I take the point," P'draig concedes. "It's not forcing though, just being yourself, but if that's how you need to play it, all the more reason to lean on us, me, Mic, Fadra, B'ryce, when you need to. So you don't combust, yeah." More liquor down the hatch and he nods. "Definitely not alone," he agrees, gives that question due consideration. "Not regret, maybe just questioning whether or not it was the right thing to do. Maybe it was selfish of me to want to jump back in so soon. I was Weyrlingmaster at Fort for so long, sometimes it's hard to curb the instincts and patterns of ten turns, built up over time. So it's more -- I guess I have to remember better to follow your lead and support you, as a member of your team."
She's steadier now, the only sign of her early breakdown being red and puffy eyes. But the set of her jaw is normal, and her gaze is steady. Balinne listens, a little twitch of her lips as they agree to disagree on fronts. Her glass is repetitively sipped from, more from lack of anything else to do with it, than a desire to drink any. "Well... why did you agree? Was it because you were bored? Or was it because you thought it would benefit the Weyrlings?" wonders Balinne idly. More consideration is given before she decides, "Is that so hard? I mean... look at this situation. Comparatively... it was pretty mild. What if you disagree about something bigger? I'll be honest, Paddy, I don't want to lose you as an assistant weyrlingmaster, but I don't want to put either of us in an uncomfortable situation, either. I just... I guess I just want to know what you're thinking."
"Not bored," P'draig shakes his head, turns his glass to and fro some more. "But I did miss it, so there's that. And yes, I thought I'd do a good job, frankly and -- I liked the idea of working with you." His expression shades a little pained and he nods this time. "I know. I think, as long as you don't mind me being more of the supportive type and if I do that kind of thing without undermining you, we'll be okay. And in the end, I wouldn't do that, wouldn't show you up in front of them. If I do disagree, I'll keep it to myself until we can talk about it. Not necessarily even to change your mind, but just to provide another point of view."
A little sigh and a slow nod of her head. Balinne's glass drops to her knee, resting there with both hands still around it. It's mostly empty by now, anyways. "Well. I do like having you around. I certainly have no problem with you being more... supportive, more friendly, than I am. Everyone has their own way, right?" A little grin. "And hopefully this will be the only thing we disagree on." A shift, Balinne sitting up a little straighter. "I do think I snapped, but I don't think it was without cause. Lost my temper, but... I stand by my decisions. But I do think I could have handled it differently."
"Like being around," P'draig answers with a faint smile of his own. "And they do. And hopefully, yeah." His head inclines for that admission. "Mm. Like I said, I don't disagree that Avey needs to kind of get over it, put her head down and do the work. Just the other two. Anyway, lesson learned all around, I guess. Them. Me. You." His glass lifts and he tosses back the last of the contents, leans forward, hand extended. "Just have to keep going, keep trying to sort it all out and know that no matter what, no matter what we disagree on, still friends."
Balinne's eyebrows lift ever-so-slightly for lessons learned. "Well. My hope is that climbing a wall will teach her something, as well as Neraset. I'm hoping it will... well. Toughen that girl up a little. I'm not expecting miracles, but it would be nice if she realized there's more to her than just hair and eyes. That she's got strength too." But they're done with the weyrling talk, Balinne dropping the subject. She shifts, her glass is set gently to the floor, and P'draig is given her hand. "Friends, then," she decides, her smile coming much more easily. "And that, I'm definitely glad for."
"She will, in time," P'draig says with strange confidence maybe and as Bali takes his hand, he covers it with his other, squeezes hers between the two of his. "Me too, Bali."