Log: Necessary Tools For Survival
Who: C'stian, Palia
When: It is a winter afternoon, 13:39 of day 11, month 2, turn 35 of Interval 10.
Where: Nighthearth, Fort Weyr
What: C'stian and Palia trade bits of their life stories before ever trading names.
>---< Local Weather for FTW >------------------------------------------------<
Current Temp: 33 F Today's Lo/Hi: 27 F / 50 F
Belior: waxing gibbous Timor: last quarter
Weather: Clear
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Clear as a bell, the sun shines in pale winter skies, though an
occasional sharp breeze blows.
>-----------------------------------< 13:39 D11 M2 T35, winter afternoon >---<
Nighthearth, Fort Weyr(#2044RJs$)
An irregular archway leads into the alcove that houses Fort Weyr's nighthearth. The cozy little nook is kept stocked at all times with fresh, hot klah, a pot of stew and a basket of baked goods including breads and both savory and sweet filled rolls. Several leather upholstered chairs stand clustered around the hearth itself which has a grate for propping up chilled feet to warm up on cold days. The Weyr's aunties also keep the space well-supplied with a stack of perpetually renewed afghans in interesting color choices, while the headwoman's staff ensures that some of the older towels are always on hand for riders ducking in off of sweeps in bad weather. Otherwise, the nighthearth is undecorated but for the motley collection of mismatched mugs, bowls and spoons that line the mantel for general use.
Late afternoon at the nighthearth is usually pretty quiet - the space is unoccupied save for Palia who has taken over one of the upholstered chairs right near the fire. She seems like she's been there for a while, legs folded beneath her, with a book open in her lap, several sheets of notes propped on the arm of the chair and other papers stacked atop her nearby satchel.
Enter one weyrling bronzerider, a cluster of notes in one hand and his gaze focused on the klah. Restorative brews are the friend of every tired individual looking for just that few extra hours of energy, and C'stian is no exception. He nods a distracted greeting to Palia, fetches himself a mug, takes a long drink, and then stands there for a moment with the thousand-yard-stare of someone who missed more sleep than they'd have liked while he waits for the klah to kick in.
C'stian's entrance draws Palia's attention upward from the book, likely the motion of his nod breaking her concentration. Gray eyes remain steady on the bronzerider for the space of a few moments, then she clears her throat lightly. "Rough night?" the apprentice queries in a friendly-enough tone.
As the klah finally hits the rider's brain, C'stian offers Palia a rueful grin. "Something like that. Overbooked myself a bit," he answers. "Took on a few too many things for one day yesterday, and only got about two hours of sleep last night. I've been drifting through the day on klah and willpower, and a lifemate who'll shout in my head if I start to drift off."
"Happens," Palia replies matter-of-factly, but not unsympathetically. "Two hours though, yikes. Not nearly enough, sleep." The harper considers the rider a bit longer. "Do you have a lot of duties left today?"
"A few," C'stian replies, trying hard to stifle an involuntary yawn. "Though one's self-appointed, so I can skip it, and everything else has been around the weyr. But you're not wrong; I've made do on four or five hours before, back at the Hall, but two isn't nearly enough." Taking another gulp of his klah, he takes in the book and adds, "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your reading."
"Well, if most of it's been around the weyr, that's good." The harper pauses for a moment, like maybe she's weighing whether or not to continue and then plows on. "I'd be a little worried if you were trying to go Between with so little sleep." A little shrug answers his apology. "I'm actually reading for fun today, instead of for duty," Palia claims with a little grin. "I'm off-duty."
"If I had anything scheduled that took me Between today, I would have made certain to get more sleep last night. I'm prone to over-work, not suicidal," C'stian assures Palia cheerily enough. The klah is clearly helping. "Off-duty... I'm not sure I remember what that's like! I really need to stop finding extra tasks for myself."
"That's good to know, especially if I wind up needing to ask you for a ride at some point," Palia remarks, maybe teasing a little and she leans back a little in her chair. "So if you've got a few minutes, maybe sit for a bit? Or will that just put you to sleep?"
C'stian looks over the chairs thoughtfully. "It might. This is the first time I've slipped up that badly on sleep." Whatever changed to make the previous day take longer than planned, he doesn't elaborate on, though there's a moment where he almost frowns. Instead, he takes a seat, klah in hand, and places his notes beside him. They look to be charcoal sketches of dragon wings at various stages of extension, from what Palia can see. "If I fall asleep, just kick me?"
"My father is a workaholic," Palia notes. "We used to slip stuff into his drinks to make sure he got enough sleep. But he used to say that even a little rest helped to refresh him," the harper explains as her gaze slides curiously over to C'stian's hides then back up to his face. "I can do that. Supposedly, I'm a good kicker."
"Good kicking is probably a very useful life skill," C'stian assures Palia. He follows the woman's gaze to the hides, then holds them out for inspection. "Old habits die hard," the former Apprentice Healer offers in explanation.
"When you have as many brothers as I do, it's a necessary tool for survival," Palia jokes a little, though her brow lifts quizzically when he mentions old habits. "Oh? Were you a harper or a healer before you impressed?" she asks with interest and takes a closer look at his handiwork.
"Healer," C'stian replies, handing the sketches over. They are done in charcoal to fairly exacting detail, showing the wing folded, partially unfolded, stretched out to full, and even in use. "As part of my studies I was supposed to drawing herbs, limbs, everything else... keep detailed notes on everything. Now my life is dragons and like I said, old habits die hard."
Palia takes the sketches and peruses each, briefly. "These are nicely done," is her opinion before she hands them back. "How long were you apprenticed for, before you impressed?"
"If we're talking informally, most of my life," C'stian admits, accepting the papers back and placing them beside the chair. "My mother was a Healer, so I grew up in the Hall and started working on what I saw the others doing as soon as I could hold charcoal or sit at a table." He gestures towards Palia now, adding in return, "How about you? Keep me awake, tell me a little about your own path."
Palia props her chin up on one hand and listens attentively. "That's a pretty long time then," she guesses and a little grin quirks up the corner of her mouth, creates a dimple there. "I don't know if my story's enough to keep you awake, but we have one thing in common: learning something from a parent from a young age. My father was a baker before he was a rider and he used to run a restaurant at Ista Weyr where I grew up. Everyone thought I'd follow in his footsteps and take the place over. But I decided to try for harper instead. I've been at the hall for the past six turns, except for the last six months when I was posted up here."
"So, how are you liking it? I mean, other than the food shortages, and the unfathomably large horde of weyrlings that comes with two clutches Impressing only a few weeks apart, and all that." C'stian grins as he adds the caveats.
"It's been ... interesting," Palia says slowly, "so far." She pauses for a moment, perhaps gathering more thoughts. "I was born here, even though I grew up at Ista, so in a way, here is partly home. So ... it's good to get to know the place better." Her nose wrinkles a little at mention of food shortages. "I could do without the food issues, but then so could everyone. It's ... a tough situation and it baffles me how a Lord Holder could be so pig-headed. But I think I'm not supposed to say things like that very loudly."
"Probably not," C'stian admits, leaning back in the chair. The klah's finally settled into his system, giving him a pleasant sense of, if not being actually /awake/, at least the illusion of being so. "But I'd be surprised if half of the weyr wasn't thinking the exact same thing you are. Still, I expect you're more used to the ups and downs of weyr life than most of the craft-bred weyrlings were; I think a lot of things over the past Turn have surprised us."
"Mmm. I'm sure everyone has an opinion," Palia agrees and shifts in her seat, freeing one foot from beneath herself and stretching out: maybe her foot fell asleep. "Ista ... is different," the apprentice says slowly. "It just hasn't seemed to have as many of the same issues as some of the other Weyrs. Maybe it's the climate, but people are just ... laid back at Ista. Unless you mean more used to living with dragons around?"
"Living with dragons around," C'stian agrees. "Or really, more all the things that entails. How riders act around flights, how the color of a dragon affects one's social standing... all of that. What do you mean by Ista being more laid back, though? I mean, I suspect part of why Fort's less laid back right now is the shortages."
"Oh - that, yes. I've always lived with dragons, so it's completely normal for me, being around them and everything that it means," Palia agrees. "Flights - not a big deal for me. And all of the ... interesting ways that riders carry on relationships." She's very forthright and seemingly unfazed by these topics. Ista though ... "Ista has ... a slower pace of life," the harper muses thoughtfully. "And being an island it's both more dependent in some ways and more self-sufficient." She closes her book and stretches both legs out this time. "People are more keyed up here, even when there aren't shortages as far as I can make out."
"Maybe so," C'stian admits, regarding Palia thoughtfully. "I don't have a lot of experience with other weyrs to judge, other than running errands as part of my duties. And showing up just long enough to get a mug of something hot and rest before going back Between isn't really enough to judge a place on, I think. At least all the... unique relationships... are starting to seem more normal to me."
"I've spent a lot of time in a lot of different Weyrs," Palia explains further, "my father's family is from High Reaches, my uncle is posted at Telgar, my mother rides in the south, and I guess it just seems to hold true that when the weather is warmer all turn, people seem more laid-back." She sets the book aside and slides out of her chair, stretches and pads over to the klah pot to draw a mug of the stuff. "Refill?" she offers. "What took you the most aback, coming here as a candidate from a craft?" she asks curiously.
"Your mother is a rider too, and your uncle at a weyr?" C'stian asks, perhaps a little surprised. He does, however, nod in answer to the question about refills. "No wonder you were used to it. I spent my entire life at Healer Hall with my mother, until I came here as a Candidate." He considers the question for a moment, seriously, and then says, "The way relationships are handled. And it really shouldn't have been what surprised me, of all things."
"Yes," Palia answers simply of her mother. "But she's holdbred originally. Papa comes from a long line of riders and crafters," this as she adds a little sweetener to her klah. "Healer Hall is a nice place. I used to walk over a fair bit from Harper - had friends there, other apprentices." She takes his mug and refills it from the pot. "Sweetener?" The harper doesn't wait for his answer though, before asking another question: "Is it the ... flexibility where relationships are concerned that surprised you?"
"I suppose more the involuntary aspect to them; the flexibility sort of comes naturally from that," C'stian replies. "But how... unrelenting... instincts are when a dragon is chasing was a bit of a surprise when they started teaching us. I mean, you hear about it, but it's not the same thing as really seeing it. Or feeling it. Win or lose, if your dragon chases it affects you. And no, I don't need the sweetener. Thank you."
C'stian is a young man of average build and above-average height, with short, curly dark hair and a dusting of scruff across his jawline. He has a slightly tanned complexion, though it seems to be his natural skin color rather than the product of any tendency towards outdoor life. His face is slightly narrow and his nose just a bit broad between his brown eyes, but neither excessively so; the overall effect is to make his mouth appear smaller and his lips a bit thin, as if he were constantly just a bit lost in thought. His fingers are often darkened slightly by charcoal dust, particularly the thumb and index finger of his right hand.
"Yeaaaah," Palia drawls out with a hint of sympathy in her voice. "Even weyrbred, the lack of control is a little daunting. My father ... well let's just say his brown chases /a lot/ and it was ... very educational sometimes, coming home when there'd been a flight." She passes the refilled mug back over to him and perches on the arm of her chair, one ankle crossing over the other. "So. Your knot says bronze and weyrling ... so has he chased yet?"
"Yes, once so far. And no, he didn't win, but losing is educational in its own way," C'stian adds dryly. He rubs at his eyes. "Honestly, that's what kept me up late; an argument with someone over what will happen with another dragon who seems about to rise."
"Papa says that ... you learn to deal, figure it out over time, even if it's not something you ever quite get used to." Palia makes a sympathetic little face. "I ... imagine it's on a lot of the weyrling's minds right now as training starts to wind down." Her mug is cradled in both hands and she tips it up to take a slow, careful sip. When she's swallowed: "I'm Palia, by the way."
"C'stian," the bronzerider offers in reply, as he takes a sip of his freshened klah mug and nods his thanks to the Harper. "A pleasure to meet you, Palia. And I expect your father is right. I'm trying to get used to it, but I imagine it will take some time."
"Good to meet you too, C'stian," Palia replies, saying his name carefully, like she's making sure she's got it right before committing it to memory. "I hope you and your bronze figure things out between the two of you," she wishes sincerely. "So ... you were arguing about a possible flight?"
"More about the appropriate reaction to a possible flight," C'stian clarifies. "There's a strong chance one of the golds is about to rise, and there was talk about whether some riders should be somewhere else, rather than letting their dragons chase. It seemed to matter a lot more yesterday evening." He shakes his head, and then stands from the chair. "Thank you for the klah and the conversation; I do have to get back to my last few duties."
"
"Ohhh that kind of discussion. Mm. Papa and his weyrmate used to skitter off sometimes when T'mic's green was proddy, so it would just be the two of them." Palia lets out a little breath: "I hope ... it all works out as well as it can," she offers sincerely, if a little awkwardly. As the rider excuses himself, one hand frees to send a little wave after him: "You're welcome. See you around, C'stian."
C'stian tilts his head in answer, offering Palia a reassuring grin. And then he's off.
When: It is a winter afternoon, 13:39 of day 11, month 2, turn 35 of Interval 10.
Where: Nighthearth, Fort Weyr
What: C'stian and Palia trade bits of their life stories before ever trading names.
>---< Local Weather for FTW >------------------------------------------------<
Current Temp: 33 F Today's Lo/Hi: 27 F / 50 F
Belior: waxing gibbous Timor: last quarter
Weather: Clear
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Clear as a bell, the sun shines in pale winter skies, though an
occasional sharp breeze blows.
>-----------------------------------< 13:39 D11 M2 T35, winter afternoon >---<
Nighthearth, Fort Weyr(#2044RJs$)
An irregular archway leads into the alcove that houses Fort Weyr's nighthearth. The cozy little nook is kept stocked at all times with fresh, hot klah, a pot of stew and a basket of baked goods including breads and both savory and sweet filled rolls. Several leather upholstered chairs stand clustered around the hearth itself which has a grate for propping up chilled feet to warm up on cold days. The Weyr's aunties also keep the space well-supplied with a stack of perpetually renewed afghans in interesting color choices, while the headwoman's staff ensures that some of the older towels are always on hand for riders ducking in off of sweeps in bad weather. Otherwise, the nighthearth is undecorated but for the motley collection of mismatched mugs, bowls and spoons that line the mantel for general use.
Late afternoon at the nighthearth is usually pretty quiet - the space is unoccupied save for Palia who has taken over one of the upholstered chairs right near the fire. She seems like she's been there for a while, legs folded beneath her, with a book open in her lap, several sheets of notes propped on the arm of the chair and other papers stacked atop her nearby satchel.
Enter one weyrling bronzerider, a cluster of notes in one hand and his gaze focused on the klah. Restorative brews are the friend of every tired individual looking for just that few extra hours of energy, and C'stian is no exception. He nods a distracted greeting to Palia, fetches himself a mug, takes a long drink, and then stands there for a moment with the thousand-yard-stare of someone who missed more sleep than they'd have liked while he waits for the klah to kick in.
C'stian's entrance draws Palia's attention upward from the book, likely the motion of his nod breaking her concentration. Gray eyes remain steady on the bronzerider for the space of a few moments, then she clears her throat lightly. "Rough night?" the apprentice queries in a friendly-enough tone.
As the klah finally hits the rider's brain, C'stian offers Palia a rueful grin. "Something like that. Overbooked myself a bit," he answers. "Took on a few too many things for one day yesterday, and only got about two hours of sleep last night. I've been drifting through the day on klah and willpower, and a lifemate who'll shout in my head if I start to drift off."
"Happens," Palia replies matter-of-factly, but not unsympathetically. "Two hours though, yikes. Not nearly enough, sleep." The harper considers the rider a bit longer. "Do you have a lot of duties left today?"
"A few," C'stian replies, trying hard to stifle an involuntary yawn. "Though one's self-appointed, so I can skip it, and everything else has been around the weyr. But you're not wrong; I've made do on four or five hours before, back at the Hall, but two isn't nearly enough." Taking another gulp of his klah, he takes in the book and adds, "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your reading."
"Well, if most of it's been around the weyr, that's good." The harper pauses for a moment, like maybe she's weighing whether or not to continue and then plows on. "I'd be a little worried if you were trying to go Between with so little sleep." A little shrug answers his apology. "I'm actually reading for fun today, instead of for duty," Palia claims with a little grin. "I'm off-duty."
"If I had anything scheduled that took me Between today, I would have made certain to get more sleep last night. I'm prone to over-work, not suicidal," C'stian assures Palia cheerily enough. The klah is clearly helping. "Off-duty... I'm not sure I remember what that's like! I really need to stop finding extra tasks for myself."
"That's good to know, especially if I wind up needing to ask you for a ride at some point," Palia remarks, maybe teasing a little and she leans back a little in her chair. "So if you've got a few minutes, maybe sit for a bit? Or will that just put you to sleep?"
C'stian looks over the chairs thoughtfully. "It might. This is the first time I've slipped up that badly on sleep." Whatever changed to make the previous day take longer than planned, he doesn't elaborate on, though there's a moment where he almost frowns. Instead, he takes a seat, klah in hand, and places his notes beside him. They look to be charcoal sketches of dragon wings at various stages of extension, from what Palia can see. "If I fall asleep, just kick me?"
"My father is a workaholic," Palia notes. "We used to slip stuff into his drinks to make sure he got enough sleep. But he used to say that even a little rest helped to refresh him," the harper explains as her gaze slides curiously over to C'stian's hides then back up to his face. "I can do that. Supposedly, I'm a good kicker."
"Good kicking is probably a very useful life skill," C'stian assures Palia. He follows the woman's gaze to the hides, then holds them out for inspection. "Old habits die hard," the former Apprentice Healer offers in explanation.
"When you have as many brothers as I do, it's a necessary tool for survival," Palia jokes a little, though her brow lifts quizzically when he mentions old habits. "Oh? Were you a harper or a healer before you impressed?" she asks with interest and takes a closer look at his handiwork.
"Healer," C'stian replies, handing the sketches over. They are done in charcoal to fairly exacting detail, showing the wing folded, partially unfolded, stretched out to full, and even in use. "As part of my studies I was supposed to drawing herbs, limbs, everything else... keep detailed notes on everything. Now my life is dragons and like I said, old habits die hard."
Palia takes the sketches and peruses each, briefly. "These are nicely done," is her opinion before she hands them back. "How long were you apprenticed for, before you impressed?"
"If we're talking informally, most of my life," C'stian admits, accepting the papers back and placing them beside the chair. "My mother was a Healer, so I grew up in the Hall and started working on what I saw the others doing as soon as I could hold charcoal or sit at a table." He gestures towards Palia now, adding in return, "How about you? Keep me awake, tell me a little about your own path."
Palia props her chin up on one hand and listens attentively. "That's a pretty long time then," she guesses and a little grin quirks up the corner of her mouth, creates a dimple there. "I don't know if my story's enough to keep you awake, but we have one thing in common: learning something from a parent from a young age. My father was a baker before he was a rider and he used to run a restaurant at Ista Weyr where I grew up. Everyone thought I'd follow in his footsteps and take the place over. But I decided to try for harper instead. I've been at the hall for the past six turns, except for the last six months when I was posted up here."
"So, how are you liking it? I mean, other than the food shortages, and the unfathomably large horde of weyrlings that comes with two clutches Impressing only a few weeks apart, and all that." C'stian grins as he adds the caveats.
"It's been ... interesting," Palia says slowly, "so far." She pauses for a moment, perhaps gathering more thoughts. "I was born here, even though I grew up at Ista, so in a way, here is partly home. So ... it's good to get to know the place better." Her nose wrinkles a little at mention of food shortages. "I could do without the food issues, but then so could everyone. It's ... a tough situation and it baffles me how a Lord Holder could be so pig-headed. But I think I'm not supposed to say things like that very loudly."
"Probably not," C'stian admits, leaning back in the chair. The klah's finally settled into his system, giving him a pleasant sense of, if not being actually /awake/, at least the illusion of being so. "But I'd be surprised if half of the weyr wasn't thinking the exact same thing you are. Still, I expect you're more used to the ups and downs of weyr life than most of the craft-bred weyrlings were; I think a lot of things over the past Turn have surprised us."
"Mmm. I'm sure everyone has an opinion," Palia agrees and shifts in her seat, freeing one foot from beneath herself and stretching out: maybe her foot fell asleep. "Ista ... is different," the apprentice says slowly. "It just hasn't seemed to have as many of the same issues as some of the other Weyrs. Maybe it's the climate, but people are just ... laid back at Ista. Unless you mean more used to living with dragons around?"
"Living with dragons around," C'stian agrees. "Or really, more all the things that entails. How riders act around flights, how the color of a dragon affects one's social standing... all of that. What do you mean by Ista being more laid back, though? I mean, I suspect part of why Fort's less laid back right now is the shortages."
"Oh - that, yes. I've always lived with dragons, so it's completely normal for me, being around them and everything that it means," Palia agrees. "Flights - not a big deal for me. And all of the ... interesting ways that riders carry on relationships." She's very forthright and seemingly unfazed by these topics. Ista though ... "Ista has ... a slower pace of life," the harper muses thoughtfully. "And being an island it's both more dependent in some ways and more self-sufficient." She closes her book and stretches both legs out this time. "People are more keyed up here, even when there aren't shortages as far as I can make out."
"Maybe so," C'stian admits, regarding Palia thoughtfully. "I don't have a lot of experience with other weyrs to judge, other than running errands as part of my duties. And showing up just long enough to get a mug of something hot and rest before going back Between isn't really enough to judge a place on, I think. At least all the... unique relationships... are starting to seem more normal to me."
"I've spent a lot of time in a lot of different Weyrs," Palia explains further, "my father's family is from High Reaches, my uncle is posted at Telgar, my mother rides in the south, and I guess it just seems to hold true that when the weather is warmer all turn, people seem more laid-back." She sets the book aside and slides out of her chair, stretches and pads over to the klah pot to draw a mug of the stuff. "Refill?" she offers. "What took you the most aback, coming here as a candidate from a craft?" she asks curiously.
"Your mother is a rider too, and your uncle at a weyr?" C'stian asks, perhaps a little surprised. He does, however, nod in answer to the question about refills. "No wonder you were used to it. I spent my entire life at Healer Hall with my mother, until I came here as a Candidate." He considers the question for a moment, seriously, and then says, "The way relationships are handled. And it really shouldn't have been what surprised me, of all things."
"Yes," Palia answers simply of her mother. "But she's holdbred originally. Papa comes from a long line of riders and crafters," this as she adds a little sweetener to her klah. "Healer Hall is a nice place. I used to walk over a fair bit from Harper - had friends there, other apprentices." She takes his mug and refills it from the pot. "Sweetener?" The harper doesn't wait for his answer though, before asking another question: "Is it the ... flexibility where relationships are concerned that surprised you?"
"I suppose more the involuntary aspect to them; the flexibility sort of comes naturally from that," C'stian replies. "But how... unrelenting... instincts are when a dragon is chasing was a bit of a surprise when they started teaching us. I mean, you hear about it, but it's not the same thing as really seeing it. Or feeling it. Win or lose, if your dragon chases it affects you. And no, I don't need the sweetener. Thank you."
C'stian is a young man of average build and above-average height, with short, curly dark hair and a dusting of scruff across his jawline. He has a slightly tanned complexion, though it seems to be his natural skin color rather than the product of any tendency towards outdoor life. His face is slightly narrow and his nose just a bit broad between his brown eyes, but neither excessively so; the overall effect is to make his mouth appear smaller and his lips a bit thin, as if he were constantly just a bit lost in thought. His fingers are often darkened slightly by charcoal dust, particularly the thumb and index finger of his right hand.
"Yeaaaah," Palia drawls out with a hint of sympathy in her voice. "Even weyrbred, the lack of control is a little daunting. My father ... well let's just say his brown chases /a lot/ and it was ... very educational sometimes, coming home when there'd been a flight." She passes the refilled mug back over to him and perches on the arm of her chair, one ankle crossing over the other. "So. Your knot says bronze and weyrling ... so has he chased yet?"
"Yes, once so far. And no, he didn't win, but losing is educational in its own way," C'stian adds dryly. He rubs at his eyes. "Honestly, that's what kept me up late; an argument with someone over what will happen with another dragon who seems about to rise."
"Papa says that ... you learn to deal, figure it out over time, even if it's not something you ever quite get used to." Palia makes a sympathetic little face. "I ... imagine it's on a lot of the weyrling's minds right now as training starts to wind down." Her mug is cradled in both hands and she tips it up to take a slow, careful sip. When she's swallowed: "I'm Palia, by the way."
"C'stian," the bronzerider offers in reply, as he takes a sip of his freshened klah mug and nods his thanks to the Harper. "A pleasure to meet you, Palia. And I expect your father is right. I'm trying to get used to it, but I imagine it will take some time."
"Good to meet you too, C'stian," Palia replies, saying his name carefully, like she's making sure she's got it right before committing it to memory. "I hope you and your bronze figure things out between the two of you," she wishes sincerely. "So ... you were arguing about a possible flight?"
"More about the appropriate reaction to a possible flight," C'stian clarifies. "There's a strong chance one of the golds is about to rise, and there was talk about whether some riders should be somewhere else, rather than letting their dragons chase. It seemed to matter a lot more yesterday evening." He shakes his head, and then stands from the chair. "Thank you for the klah and the conversation; I do have to get back to my last few duties."
"
"Ohhh that kind of discussion. Mm. Papa and his weyrmate used to skitter off sometimes when T'mic's green was proddy, so it would just be the two of them." Palia lets out a little breath: "I hope ... it all works out as well as it can," she offers sincerely, if a little awkwardly. As the rider excuses himself, one hand frees to send a little wave after him: "You're welcome. See you around, C'stian."
C'stian tilts his head in answer, offering Palia a reassuring grin. And then he's off.