Log: Advising Jenivrys
Who: Jenivrys, Xoneth, Jekzith, Palia (NPC)
When: day 6, month 6, turn 14 of the 10th Interval
Where: Lake Shore/Weyrlingmaster's Office, Fort Weyr
What: P'draig gets a surprise visitor from Telgar: Jenivrys looking for advice.
Fort Weyr Bowl, by the lake(#1012RJ$)
This long stretch of the bowl lies to the southeast of the feeding grounds. At its western end, near the wall, the ground dips down slightly to where a lake has formed. Dragons are often washed there by their riders, and both riders and their dragons often swim in the cool waters.
The fenced off portion of the bowl for the Weyr's herds is to the northwest. To the north, a small structure built against the feeding ground pens serves as the Weyr's stables. Waves gently lap the shore to the west, and the rest of the bowl lies to the northeast.
Popping in just over Fort's bowl, the strange young brown takes his time reaching the lake shore. Once he's there his rider slips off, hurry taking the place of care, and stands there for a moment with a hand on his leg to catch her breath. "You're going to be all right while I find him?" she asks the brown who is already examining the rocks and pebbles under his feet.
P'draig stands at the lake's edge, skipping stones, quite a pile of the flat ones at his feet, two held loosely in his left hand, as he flicks his wrist to send the one in his right skimming across the water. Seven skips. Nice job? The Weyrlingmaster's jacket is nowhere in sight, the man dressed for Fort's warmer weather. Out in the lake, Jekzith swims. The one oddity about the rider, the fact that he has a baby strapped to his chest.
Xoneth's answer must be a yes, for after another few seconds Jenivrys leaves his side to head for P'draig. Her feet scuff along the ground. "Excuse me," she says hesitantly, hand ready to salute as soon as he turns her way. "Telgar's duties to Fort and her queens. I'm looking for the Weyrlingmaster. Could you tell me where he is, sir?"
P'draig sends another stone out onto the lake, only three jumps this time. "And Fort's to Telgar and hers." He grins a little and nudges his shoulder upward a little. "That would be me. Well met. I'm P'draig." Gray-blue eyes scan her mildly. "Guess I'm about to find out why you're looking for me?"
Dragon> Jekzith senses that Xoneth's voice is a deep rich baritone, his curiosity barely hidden. << What do you see out there? >>
Jekzith> Xoneth senses that Jekzith is all thoughts of water and bubbles. << Huh? Oh hello there! Water? Lots of water? It's deep you know. >>
Jenivrys's eyes widen and she salutes again. "Oh! Sir.. yes, sir, I... yes sir. I'm sorry, I didn't know it was you. You were you. Um." She presses her lips together and looks away across the lake for a fast count of ten before looking back to the other brownrider. "I'm sorry, sir, for babbling. My name is Jenivrys, and that's Xoneth. I.. I had some questions for the weyrlingmaster.. for you." She blinks and looks uncertainly at the baby. "Is he... yours?"
Dragon> Xoneth bespoke Jekzith with << Is it? Our lake is deep too. But there are rocks at the bottom. Are there rocks at the bottom of yours? >>
Jekzith> Xoneth senses that Jekzith peers downward into the depths. << Yes. There are rocks and fish and weeds. Would you like to come see? >>
Dragon> Jekzith senses that Xoneth would, very much, but... << Jeni has not taken off my straps. But the rocks here are different from the rocks at home. >>
P'draig just grins, easy-like back at the young woman and rubs Palia's back, the baby squeaking a little in the sling and tilting her head back. "That's all right. How're you supposed to know a person you've never met before?" He skips the last rock, a paltry two and holds his hand out towards her. "Nice to meet you Vrys. That's Jekzith in the water, and this is Palia, my little girl."
Jenivrys's face lightens as she takes his hand, her smile brightening her face. "How did you know, sir? Most people call me Jeni, but I prefer Vrys. /Thank/ you. Palia? What a pretty name. How old is she?"
.
"I dunno, seemed to slide off the tongue more easily, y'know? And dragonriders often like their names short." P'draig casts her a warm smile in return and shifts the baby slightly so she can see better. "Thanks. About three months now."
"You should tell my brother that. Or...," she doesn't finish, but reaches out a curled finger to hover near the baby's ear. "Oh, she's lovely. Could I... could I hold her? I'm sorry, that's too forward, isn't it?"
P'draig blinks a couple of times at the girl. "Who's your brother?" he asks curiously then looks down at the baby, back up at Jenivrys. "Uh ... sure. You know your way around babies?" He's already loosening the sling though and working Palia out. She burbles and drools a little, eyes focusing on Jenivrys, wide and gray.
Jenivrys says absently, "Gr'din. Sareith's his bronze," while reaching out for the baby. Her eyes stay on Palia, which seems to make her mouth work better too. "I do, but I haven't held one since I was a Candidate. If it hadn't been for him," she jerks her head toward Xoneth, "I'd probably have one of my own by now."
"Oh the clutchsire for his clutch," P'draig nods towards Xoneth and gets the last clinging bit of fabric from around Palia's legs and hands her over gently and carefully. The baby's feet kick a little as she gets used to this foreign presence. "Really? Were you betrothed or close to it?"
Jekzith> Xoneth senses that Jekzith sends gray-blue disappointment towards the other brown. << That's a pity. Well maybe if she gets them off you can come in and see. But in the meantime I can blow some bubbles for you. >> And he does.
"Right," Vrys agrees, pale eyes flicking up to his face for a second. "Sareith is Xoneth's sire." Then Palia's in her arms and she spends the next little while getting the baby settled, her head bent over the armful. "Shh, shh sweetie. There you are. See?" It's a pretty picture of mother and child, except for the bizarre shiny buckles on Vrys' coat. She continues calmly, "I wasn't betrothed, no, but I probably would have been shortly after the hatching."
Palia's young enough that eyeing the buckles with interest is possible, but grabbing them is not. Still she waves a hand at them and tries to smack her palm onto one. "Guess you're holdbred then," P'draig says casually, grinning a little at the young woman so involved with his baby. "You like kids, huh?"
Jenivrys puts her finger in the way of that vague grab, just so she can get that happy 'baby has my finger' grin. Sighs, "I do. I don't know that I'll ever have any of my own, though." Again she glances up, her joy in the baby dimming. "I heard - my weyrlingmaster said lots of female riders can't, because we go *between* all the time."
Palia's fingers do what baby's fingers do by instinct, curling around the offered finger tightly. She makes little babbly gurgling sounds and tries to mouth the tip of that finger. "Well that's nice to hear," replies P'draig with a smile. "And ... well, there's always a risk that if you're Between too long you can lose one." Candid, he lifts his eyes to meet hers. "But you have to stay Between long enough, see. So it's not guaranteed that it'll be hard. My mother lost two between my brother and sister. She's a greenrider. But there's four of us, so you /can/ have a family ... and be a rider."
Poor Palia, Vrys's finger has no milk. The girl lets her suckle anyway. "He said... he said the, the fighting..." She licks her lips and turns her attention back to the baby before she can continue. "That's what I wanted to... to ask. Someone else. Someone else who knows. How do you - I'm terrified, sir. Of, of everything. I don't like heights, and, and my eyes are closed half the time I'm flying, and *between* scares me silly. How can I be ready for a fighting wing like they say I am?"
The baby actually seems more intent on gnawing on that finger rather than getting any sustenance out of it. P'draig listens to the flood of questions and clears his throat once. "Those are all pretty serious questions ..." he hesitates for a moment then nods towards the not too distant opening of the Barracks. "Would you care to come with me to my office? I can at least offer you a drink there and I can pass Palia off to her nurse, though I can understand if you'd rather keep her." A hint of teasing in that last, then his arm gestures in the direction of said office.
Keep her indeed - Jenivrys pulls the baby closer, just for a second, when he suggests taking her away. Then she relaxes with a rueful smile, and nods. "Of course, sir. I... I'd like that. As long as it's not taking away from your weyrlings, of course. And, and if you want to give Palia to her nurses, you can. Oh!" A fast look between her brown and P'draig and she offers the baby back. "Xoneth says he'd like his straps off so he can swim. Probably wants to explore the bottom of your lake."
"It's okay if you want to keep holding her. And I'm on a bit of a break right now. One of my assistants is really good about stepping in, making sure I get enough time with Palia. They're not neglected, the weyrlings." He smiles at her encouragingly, but takes Palia back as she mentions strap removal. "Go for it. Then we can retreat. I've got safe drinks and the less safe kind. It's up to you which you'd rather."
Jenivrys hands the baby back, then hurries to pull the straps off Xoneth. The small brown waits patiently until she's finished before sliding into the water, his eyes gleaming brightly below the surface. Vrys bundles the leather neatly - she has the skills of a rider, if not the internal strength - and leaves it on the lakeshore before hurrying to catch up with the taller man. "Whatever you'd like to drink, sir," she says as they pass through the barracks and into the office. "I'm not one of those who couldn't wait to start drinking again."
Weyrlingmaster's Office(#17599RJL)
This is a somewhat smallish room, rectangular in shape with a single wooden door in the center of one wall. Hewn from the rock, like the rest of the Weyr, thisroom is used by the Weyrlingmaster as an office.
Off to the left side of the room as you face the door is a simple wooden desk and chair. A thick piece of hide covers the desk's top to protect its surface, and neat piles of record hides are stacked on a corner. A short wooden bookcase lines the end of the room to the right of the doorway. Scrolls and hides fill its shelves, and bits of wherhide and other various spare things needed by weyrlings scatter across the top. The long, far wall is covered by a large tapestry depicting Weyrlings in various stages of training. In the center of the room, four chairs surround an oval table.
P'draig ushers the way into his office and closes the door behind him, a measure of privacy offered. Palia, he does step through the other door to drop off in the adjoining weyr words softly murmured between himself and her nurse. Then he's back, both doors closed and pouring two glasses of wine, one for her, one for him, a light white. "Have a seat wherever is comfortable, Vrys." He waits until she sits before sitting himself and considers for a moment. "Okay, first, on the heights. Have you done exercises to get used to them gradually ... and do you have a good stash of mint or ginger candies to help if they upset your stomach?"
Jenivrys smoothes invisible wrinkles from her riding leathers, the habitual gesture of one used to wearing lighter-weight clothes, and accepts the wine with a nod. "Thank you. --I have. A little, I mean. Xoneth's... our weyr is one of the highest at, at Telgar. And yes, sir. Sort of. I'm a, I -used- to be an herbalist. I've tried ginger, spearmint, clove... anything you can think of. I don't, I've never thrown up." She shows him a pale smile before turning her eyes away again. "Just wished I -could-, if it'd... if I could stay on the ground. Xoneth's very helpful," she adds quickly. "He doesn't do anything I don't like unless Valketh says he has to."
P'draig nods a few times, getting comfortable in his chair and tilts his glass up for a sip. "You don't have to call me sir anymore y'know. Just P'draig'd be fine. I'm not /your/ Weyrlingmaster after all." A brief smile flashes across his lips and then he goes on. "Well that's something at least. Palia's mother, Illya, she was similar, had trouble with the heights and sicked up a few times during early flying lessons. Gradually she got used to it. And if the healer-stuff isn't working. Hmm. Maybe slow-breathing?" Both of his brows lift in emphasis and he demonstrates a little. "Y'know, centers the mind. I do it before every Threadfall still. Good that your brown helps too. Sounds like a good pairing."
Jenivrys doesn't drink the wine, she fidgets with it, passing the glass from the fingertips of one hand to the fingertips of the other, eyes fixed on it as though she is going to be graded. At his assertion that she use his name she glances at him, small smile flickering again. "Maybe not, but you still outrank me, and I'm asking you for advice. So in a way, for just now, you are. Sort of." Back to the wineglass. "...Slow breathing? 'Centers the mind'. That..." She takes in a long breath, holds it, exhales. "That sounds like, like something that might... it sort of slows everything down, doesn't it?"
P'draig watches the young woman's hands trade the wineglass back and forth. "It's not heavy," he notes of the beverage, "shouldn't give you a bad head or anything." He acknowledges his higher rank with a slight nod. "It's not something I belabor though, unless it's with weyrlings I'm responsible for. But if you're more comfortable with 'sir', that's what's important. Sometimes the weyrlings like it when the weyrlingmaster's more ... approachable." His smile is gentle on her before he goes on. "Yes. You focus on each breath, sort of let the fear run out. Or at least, face it, see it's there, and recognize that it's there, but don't let it rule you. If you slow your mind down, you can do that. And well, the more you practice it the faster it goes."
With another sheepish grimace Vrys nods and takes a sip, but as soon as her lips are wet the glass drops back to her lap and the fidgeting there. "Yes, sir. It just seems... it doesn't seem right, is all. And Xoneth is." When she mentions his name she gains strength in both voice and posture, even looking directly at the other brownrider. "He's very... strong. No, that's not it. He... I can lean on him. Rely on him. He's like Grae, only... only he's always there. And, and I have to do this for -him-." Her voice starts to break and she swallows it down, staring fixedly at her wine again. "I -have- to."
P'draig seems to be a pretty good listener, because he takes that in pretty much without saying anything other than the odd "Hmm" here and there to show he's listening. "Of course you can rely on him. And he can rely on you, I'll bet it's part of why he chose you. Because for all your fear, you are trying to face those fears." He nods to her posture, the determination in her voice. "Becoming a rider isn't easy, Vrys. Not for anyone really, a few maybe, but, it's a huge change. There's a lot expected of you and right now, because of the way things are, we're pushing through training almost too fast maybe. I know I need to get mine trained as quickly as possible and up in the air to fill holes in wings." His eyes gray-blue, sincere fix on hers. "You're right to be scared. And it's all right to be scared. But what duty and your dragon demand, is that you learn to face your fear, manage it, so you can be the rider your Xoneth knows is in your heart."
Jenivrys leans back against the chair gingerly, like she's afraid it will glue her there, and turns her eyes onto the weyrlingmaster's desk. It's brown. Comforting, something she can talk to even with a tight voice. "I've never been... you're right, I'm holdbred. And I told Grae and Rilkie I'd stand for duty. I never thought... and then Xoneth picked me, and I've... All the others made it look so easy, but I've been struggling all this time. I couldn't... I could barely pick up a firestone bag when this started, so you know what I did? For Xoneth? I carried one around with me for months, everywhere I went, adding more weight when it got easy. But it's never gotten easy again. I can, I can -do- all these things Xoneth needs. I -make- myself. I just... I feel like I'm failing him because I don't..." She has to stop again and swallow, the back of a hand surreptitiously wiping at her eyes.
"That's another kind of courage though, Vrys. Shells if half the Weyrlings I train were that dedicated ..." he trails off and leans forward setting down his glass on the table, scoots his chair around a little. "Hey ... here, need a hanky?" He roots around in his pocket. "I'd offer a hug too, but I'm not sure how well that'd go over, being as we just met." A slight attempt at teasing in the words. "But seriously, it just sounds like you had a lot of catching up to do from the outset, and you did what you had to to stay afloat." Beat. "Have you got your wing yet?"
Jenivrys sniffs and nods for the hanky, even giving him a wobbly smile for his other suggestion. "You could... I think I'd like a hug, please. Xoneth tries, but hugging his foot isn't the same thing." His next question gets a shake of her head. "No. I was, I was thinking of asking X', X'ndar if I could stay in the weyrling wing for a while. Until I'm better."
P'draig offers up a large, manly hanky of woven white linen, hemmed in brown. Her acceptance of the other offer, seems to surprise a little, but he only chuckles a little and leans across to slide one arm around her shoulders and gives a gentle squeeze. "Yeah, I love Jekzith dearly, but sometimes you just need a real hug." Another pair of nods follows her statement about X'ndar. "Might not be the worst idea ever, give yourself a little more breathing room. For your own sake and your wing's."
Jenivrys takes the hanky and leans into the hug, waiting until they've separated to dab at her eyes and discreetly blow her nose. "Thank you. For... for everything. And," she adds with a laugh that's as much sob, "You know what I can't stop thinking about? There was this girl I was a Candidate with. Twelve, maybe thirteen. She thought I was stupid for saying I'd stand. Because I didn't -want- to Impress, and that was all she could think about. Thought it'd make her somebody. Well, she was left there and I wasn't, and sometimes I can't sleep because I wonder if she was right after all."
"Sure, sure, no problem. And hang onto that if you like. I've got plenty." P'draig leans back into his own chair and reaches for his wineglass, taking another drink. "Yeah. There's always some like that in every bunch, so sure that just Impressing suddenly makes them whatever it is they weren't before. For some of them, they do Impress and they find out the hard way that's not how it works. The ones left Standing though, I guess they just keep right on wondering. All I can say, Vrys, is that the dragon always knows. And maybe deep down inside, there was some part of you that did want to Impress, even if you wanted a different life for yourself."
\
Jenivrys crumples the hanky and tucks it into a pocket, laces her fingers together and studies them. "Thank you. That, that makes sense. And I did - not specifically, but generally. I was going to get married and have children, and we were going to put up a cot a little way away from my parents', and my husband would probably be a miner. And now.. now I'm here and I have to figure out everything all over again. It's just... really hard."
"Mineholder's wife to brownrider. That's a big change." P'draig's face continues to be touched by sympathy. "I was going to be a Baker. And be weyrmated to this girl I stood with the first time for the rest of my life. Have kids, a family. Not have to worry about Thread. It supposedly being an Interval and all." He pauses, clears his throat and goes on. "I got some of those things for a little while. And I'm thinking, Vrys, that if you still want a partner and family, that you can make those happen some day."
"Thank you, sir," she says, knuckling her eyes one last time before standing. "I'm sorry for, for getting all weepy on you like that. I haven't tried to talk to -my- Weyrlingmaster, because I think I knew I'd cry, and, well..." Again there's a sheepish smile. "I think he's three times my age. It'd feel /strange/. If there's anything I can do, please - let me know? Anything."
"Easier to cry in front of a complete stranger?" P'draig quirks a brow and a wry smile Vrys' way and drains the last of his wine, standing as she does. "Huh. Well I'd guess there's only about ten or so turns between you and me, so I guess if that's more comforting, I'm glad I could help." He reaches over to clasp her shoulder gently. "Try the breathing exercise, maybe even make it part of your day and just remember: you're not the only one who's scared or whose life got upended by Impression. You're not alone, Vrys. There's no shame in what you're feeling or how you are." His hand lifts away and he turns to walk her to the door. "Don't be a stranger, okay? If you need an ear, c'mon by again. Just have Xoneth bespeak Jekzith, make sure I'm around first."
"Easier to cry when it doesn't feel like my grandfather," she corrects with another watery smile. She lays her fingers on his for a moment, then nods. "Thank you. That really helps. I'll try the breathing - I'll try it now. And I'll be sure to let you know how it works." Stopping just inside the door she adds, "And if you need someone to watch Palia, just ask? I'd be happy to." Her lips press together for a second, then she flushes, pulls open the door and hurries outside.
P'draig nods just once. "You'll do fine, Vrys. Chin up," he encourages and then blinks in surprise. "Palia? Well if you'd like to ... though she does have a full-time nurse." And she's hurrying off, with his sudden, "Clear skies," following after.
When: day 6, month 6, turn 14 of the 10th Interval
Where: Lake Shore/Weyrlingmaster's Office, Fort Weyr
What: P'draig gets a surprise visitor from Telgar: Jenivrys looking for advice.
Fort Weyr Bowl, by the lake(#1012RJ$)
This long stretch of the bowl lies to the southeast of the feeding grounds. At its western end, near the wall, the ground dips down slightly to where a lake has formed. Dragons are often washed there by their riders, and both riders and their dragons often swim in the cool waters.
The fenced off portion of the bowl for the Weyr's herds is to the northwest. To the north, a small structure built against the feeding ground pens serves as the Weyr's stables. Waves gently lap the shore to the west, and the rest of the bowl lies to the northeast.
Popping in just over Fort's bowl, the strange young brown takes his time reaching the lake shore. Once he's there his rider slips off, hurry taking the place of care, and stands there for a moment with a hand on his leg to catch her breath. "You're going to be all right while I find him?" she asks the brown who is already examining the rocks and pebbles under his feet.
P'draig stands at the lake's edge, skipping stones, quite a pile of the flat ones at his feet, two held loosely in his left hand, as he flicks his wrist to send the one in his right skimming across the water. Seven skips. Nice job? The Weyrlingmaster's jacket is nowhere in sight, the man dressed for Fort's warmer weather. Out in the lake, Jekzith swims. The one oddity about the rider, the fact that he has a baby strapped to his chest.
Xoneth's answer must be a yes, for after another few seconds Jenivrys leaves his side to head for P'draig. Her feet scuff along the ground. "Excuse me," she says hesitantly, hand ready to salute as soon as he turns her way. "Telgar's duties to Fort and her queens. I'm looking for the Weyrlingmaster. Could you tell me where he is, sir?"
P'draig sends another stone out onto the lake, only three jumps this time. "And Fort's to Telgar and hers." He grins a little and nudges his shoulder upward a little. "That would be me. Well met. I'm P'draig." Gray-blue eyes scan her mildly. "Guess I'm about to find out why you're looking for me?"
Dragon> Jekzith senses that Xoneth's voice is a deep rich baritone, his curiosity barely hidden. << What do you see out there? >>
Jekzith> Xoneth senses that Jekzith is all thoughts of water and bubbles. << Huh? Oh hello there! Water? Lots of water? It's deep you know. >>
Jenivrys's eyes widen and she salutes again. "Oh! Sir.. yes, sir, I... yes sir. I'm sorry, I didn't know it was you. You were you. Um." She presses her lips together and looks away across the lake for a fast count of ten before looking back to the other brownrider. "I'm sorry, sir, for babbling. My name is Jenivrys, and that's Xoneth. I.. I had some questions for the weyrlingmaster.. for you." She blinks and looks uncertainly at the baby. "Is he... yours?"
Dragon> Xoneth bespoke Jekzith with << Is it? Our lake is deep too. But there are rocks at the bottom. Are there rocks at the bottom of yours? >>
Jekzith> Xoneth senses that Jekzith peers downward into the depths. << Yes. There are rocks and fish and weeds. Would you like to come see? >>
Dragon> Jekzith senses that Xoneth would, very much, but... << Jeni has not taken off my straps. But the rocks here are different from the rocks at home. >>
P'draig just grins, easy-like back at the young woman and rubs Palia's back, the baby squeaking a little in the sling and tilting her head back. "That's all right. How're you supposed to know a person you've never met before?" He skips the last rock, a paltry two and holds his hand out towards her. "Nice to meet you Vrys. That's Jekzith in the water, and this is Palia, my little girl."
Jenivrys's face lightens as she takes his hand, her smile brightening her face. "How did you know, sir? Most people call me Jeni, but I prefer Vrys. /Thank/ you. Palia? What a pretty name. How old is she?"
.
"I dunno, seemed to slide off the tongue more easily, y'know? And dragonriders often like their names short." P'draig casts her a warm smile in return and shifts the baby slightly so she can see better. "Thanks. About three months now."
"You should tell my brother that. Or...," she doesn't finish, but reaches out a curled finger to hover near the baby's ear. "Oh, she's lovely. Could I... could I hold her? I'm sorry, that's too forward, isn't it?"
P'draig blinks a couple of times at the girl. "Who's your brother?" he asks curiously then looks down at the baby, back up at Jenivrys. "Uh ... sure. You know your way around babies?" He's already loosening the sling though and working Palia out. She burbles and drools a little, eyes focusing on Jenivrys, wide and gray.
Jenivrys says absently, "Gr'din. Sareith's his bronze," while reaching out for the baby. Her eyes stay on Palia, which seems to make her mouth work better too. "I do, but I haven't held one since I was a Candidate. If it hadn't been for him," she jerks her head toward Xoneth, "I'd probably have one of my own by now."
"Oh the clutchsire for his clutch," P'draig nods towards Xoneth and gets the last clinging bit of fabric from around Palia's legs and hands her over gently and carefully. The baby's feet kick a little as she gets used to this foreign presence. "Really? Were you betrothed or close to it?"
Jekzith> Xoneth senses that Jekzith sends gray-blue disappointment towards the other brown. << That's a pity. Well maybe if she gets them off you can come in and see. But in the meantime I can blow some bubbles for you. >> And he does.
"Right," Vrys agrees, pale eyes flicking up to his face for a second. "Sareith is Xoneth's sire." Then Palia's in her arms and she spends the next little while getting the baby settled, her head bent over the armful. "Shh, shh sweetie. There you are. See?" It's a pretty picture of mother and child, except for the bizarre shiny buckles on Vrys' coat. She continues calmly, "I wasn't betrothed, no, but I probably would have been shortly after the hatching."
Palia's young enough that eyeing the buckles with interest is possible, but grabbing them is not. Still she waves a hand at them and tries to smack her palm onto one. "Guess you're holdbred then," P'draig says casually, grinning a little at the young woman so involved with his baby. "You like kids, huh?"
Jenivrys puts her finger in the way of that vague grab, just so she can get that happy 'baby has my finger' grin. Sighs, "I do. I don't know that I'll ever have any of my own, though." Again she glances up, her joy in the baby dimming. "I heard - my weyrlingmaster said lots of female riders can't, because we go *between* all the time."
Palia's fingers do what baby's fingers do by instinct, curling around the offered finger tightly. She makes little babbly gurgling sounds and tries to mouth the tip of that finger. "Well that's nice to hear," replies P'draig with a smile. "And ... well, there's always a risk that if you're Between too long you can lose one." Candid, he lifts his eyes to meet hers. "But you have to stay Between long enough, see. So it's not guaranteed that it'll be hard. My mother lost two between my brother and sister. She's a greenrider. But there's four of us, so you /can/ have a family ... and be a rider."
Poor Palia, Vrys's finger has no milk. The girl lets her suckle anyway. "He said... he said the, the fighting..." She licks her lips and turns her attention back to the baby before she can continue. "That's what I wanted to... to ask. Someone else. Someone else who knows. How do you - I'm terrified, sir. Of, of everything. I don't like heights, and, and my eyes are closed half the time I'm flying, and *between* scares me silly. How can I be ready for a fighting wing like they say I am?"
The baby actually seems more intent on gnawing on that finger rather than getting any sustenance out of it. P'draig listens to the flood of questions and clears his throat once. "Those are all pretty serious questions ..." he hesitates for a moment then nods towards the not too distant opening of the Barracks. "Would you care to come with me to my office? I can at least offer you a drink there and I can pass Palia off to her nurse, though I can understand if you'd rather keep her." A hint of teasing in that last, then his arm gestures in the direction of said office.
Keep her indeed - Jenivrys pulls the baby closer, just for a second, when he suggests taking her away. Then she relaxes with a rueful smile, and nods. "Of course, sir. I... I'd like that. As long as it's not taking away from your weyrlings, of course. And, and if you want to give Palia to her nurses, you can. Oh!" A fast look between her brown and P'draig and she offers the baby back. "Xoneth says he'd like his straps off so he can swim. Probably wants to explore the bottom of your lake."
"It's okay if you want to keep holding her. And I'm on a bit of a break right now. One of my assistants is really good about stepping in, making sure I get enough time with Palia. They're not neglected, the weyrlings." He smiles at her encouragingly, but takes Palia back as she mentions strap removal. "Go for it. Then we can retreat. I've got safe drinks and the less safe kind. It's up to you which you'd rather."
Jenivrys hands the baby back, then hurries to pull the straps off Xoneth. The small brown waits patiently until she's finished before sliding into the water, his eyes gleaming brightly below the surface. Vrys bundles the leather neatly - she has the skills of a rider, if not the internal strength - and leaves it on the lakeshore before hurrying to catch up with the taller man. "Whatever you'd like to drink, sir," she says as they pass through the barracks and into the office. "I'm not one of those who couldn't wait to start drinking again."
Weyrlingmaster's Office(#17599RJL)
This is a somewhat smallish room, rectangular in shape with a single wooden door in the center of one wall. Hewn from the rock, like the rest of the Weyr, thisroom is used by the Weyrlingmaster as an office.
Off to the left side of the room as you face the door is a simple wooden desk and chair. A thick piece of hide covers the desk's top to protect its surface, and neat piles of record hides are stacked on a corner. A short wooden bookcase lines the end of the room to the right of the doorway. Scrolls and hides fill its shelves, and bits of wherhide and other various spare things needed by weyrlings scatter across the top. The long, far wall is covered by a large tapestry depicting Weyrlings in various stages of training. In the center of the room, four chairs surround an oval table.
P'draig ushers the way into his office and closes the door behind him, a measure of privacy offered. Palia, he does step through the other door to drop off in the adjoining weyr words softly murmured between himself and her nurse. Then he's back, both doors closed and pouring two glasses of wine, one for her, one for him, a light white. "Have a seat wherever is comfortable, Vrys." He waits until she sits before sitting himself and considers for a moment. "Okay, first, on the heights. Have you done exercises to get used to them gradually ... and do you have a good stash of mint or ginger candies to help if they upset your stomach?"
Jenivrys smoothes invisible wrinkles from her riding leathers, the habitual gesture of one used to wearing lighter-weight clothes, and accepts the wine with a nod. "Thank you. --I have. A little, I mean. Xoneth's... our weyr is one of the highest at, at Telgar. And yes, sir. Sort of. I'm a, I -used- to be an herbalist. I've tried ginger, spearmint, clove... anything you can think of. I don't, I've never thrown up." She shows him a pale smile before turning her eyes away again. "Just wished I -could-, if it'd... if I could stay on the ground. Xoneth's very helpful," she adds quickly. "He doesn't do anything I don't like unless Valketh says he has to."
P'draig nods a few times, getting comfortable in his chair and tilts his glass up for a sip. "You don't have to call me sir anymore y'know. Just P'draig'd be fine. I'm not /your/ Weyrlingmaster after all." A brief smile flashes across his lips and then he goes on. "Well that's something at least. Palia's mother, Illya, she was similar, had trouble with the heights and sicked up a few times during early flying lessons. Gradually she got used to it. And if the healer-stuff isn't working. Hmm. Maybe slow-breathing?" Both of his brows lift in emphasis and he demonstrates a little. "Y'know, centers the mind. I do it before every Threadfall still. Good that your brown helps too. Sounds like a good pairing."
Jenivrys doesn't drink the wine, she fidgets with it, passing the glass from the fingertips of one hand to the fingertips of the other, eyes fixed on it as though she is going to be graded. At his assertion that she use his name she glances at him, small smile flickering again. "Maybe not, but you still outrank me, and I'm asking you for advice. So in a way, for just now, you are. Sort of." Back to the wineglass. "...Slow breathing? 'Centers the mind'. That..." She takes in a long breath, holds it, exhales. "That sounds like, like something that might... it sort of slows everything down, doesn't it?"
P'draig watches the young woman's hands trade the wineglass back and forth. "It's not heavy," he notes of the beverage, "shouldn't give you a bad head or anything." He acknowledges his higher rank with a slight nod. "It's not something I belabor though, unless it's with weyrlings I'm responsible for. But if you're more comfortable with 'sir', that's what's important. Sometimes the weyrlings like it when the weyrlingmaster's more ... approachable." His smile is gentle on her before he goes on. "Yes. You focus on each breath, sort of let the fear run out. Or at least, face it, see it's there, and recognize that it's there, but don't let it rule you. If you slow your mind down, you can do that. And well, the more you practice it the faster it goes."
With another sheepish grimace Vrys nods and takes a sip, but as soon as her lips are wet the glass drops back to her lap and the fidgeting there. "Yes, sir. It just seems... it doesn't seem right, is all. And Xoneth is." When she mentions his name she gains strength in both voice and posture, even looking directly at the other brownrider. "He's very... strong. No, that's not it. He... I can lean on him. Rely on him. He's like Grae, only... only he's always there. And, and I have to do this for -him-." Her voice starts to break and she swallows it down, staring fixedly at her wine again. "I -have- to."
P'draig seems to be a pretty good listener, because he takes that in pretty much without saying anything other than the odd "Hmm" here and there to show he's listening. "Of course you can rely on him. And he can rely on you, I'll bet it's part of why he chose you. Because for all your fear, you are trying to face those fears." He nods to her posture, the determination in her voice. "Becoming a rider isn't easy, Vrys. Not for anyone really, a few maybe, but, it's a huge change. There's a lot expected of you and right now, because of the way things are, we're pushing through training almost too fast maybe. I know I need to get mine trained as quickly as possible and up in the air to fill holes in wings." His eyes gray-blue, sincere fix on hers. "You're right to be scared. And it's all right to be scared. But what duty and your dragon demand, is that you learn to face your fear, manage it, so you can be the rider your Xoneth knows is in your heart."
Jenivrys leans back against the chair gingerly, like she's afraid it will glue her there, and turns her eyes onto the weyrlingmaster's desk. It's brown. Comforting, something she can talk to even with a tight voice. "I've never been... you're right, I'm holdbred. And I told Grae and Rilkie I'd stand for duty. I never thought... and then Xoneth picked me, and I've... All the others made it look so easy, but I've been struggling all this time. I couldn't... I could barely pick up a firestone bag when this started, so you know what I did? For Xoneth? I carried one around with me for months, everywhere I went, adding more weight when it got easy. But it's never gotten easy again. I can, I can -do- all these things Xoneth needs. I -make- myself. I just... I feel like I'm failing him because I don't..." She has to stop again and swallow, the back of a hand surreptitiously wiping at her eyes.
"That's another kind of courage though, Vrys. Shells if half the Weyrlings I train were that dedicated ..." he trails off and leans forward setting down his glass on the table, scoots his chair around a little. "Hey ... here, need a hanky?" He roots around in his pocket. "I'd offer a hug too, but I'm not sure how well that'd go over, being as we just met." A slight attempt at teasing in the words. "But seriously, it just sounds like you had a lot of catching up to do from the outset, and you did what you had to to stay afloat." Beat. "Have you got your wing yet?"
Jenivrys sniffs and nods for the hanky, even giving him a wobbly smile for his other suggestion. "You could... I think I'd like a hug, please. Xoneth tries, but hugging his foot isn't the same thing." His next question gets a shake of her head. "No. I was, I was thinking of asking X', X'ndar if I could stay in the weyrling wing for a while. Until I'm better."
P'draig offers up a large, manly hanky of woven white linen, hemmed in brown. Her acceptance of the other offer, seems to surprise a little, but he only chuckles a little and leans across to slide one arm around her shoulders and gives a gentle squeeze. "Yeah, I love Jekzith dearly, but sometimes you just need a real hug." Another pair of nods follows her statement about X'ndar. "Might not be the worst idea ever, give yourself a little more breathing room. For your own sake and your wing's."
Jenivrys takes the hanky and leans into the hug, waiting until they've separated to dab at her eyes and discreetly blow her nose. "Thank you. For... for everything. And," she adds with a laugh that's as much sob, "You know what I can't stop thinking about? There was this girl I was a Candidate with. Twelve, maybe thirteen. She thought I was stupid for saying I'd stand. Because I didn't -want- to Impress, and that was all she could think about. Thought it'd make her somebody. Well, she was left there and I wasn't, and sometimes I can't sleep because I wonder if she was right after all."
"Sure, sure, no problem. And hang onto that if you like. I've got plenty." P'draig leans back into his own chair and reaches for his wineglass, taking another drink. "Yeah. There's always some like that in every bunch, so sure that just Impressing suddenly makes them whatever it is they weren't before. For some of them, they do Impress and they find out the hard way that's not how it works. The ones left Standing though, I guess they just keep right on wondering. All I can say, Vrys, is that the dragon always knows. And maybe deep down inside, there was some part of you that did want to Impress, even if you wanted a different life for yourself."
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Jenivrys crumples the hanky and tucks it into a pocket, laces her fingers together and studies them. "Thank you. That, that makes sense. And I did - not specifically, but generally. I was going to get married and have children, and we were going to put up a cot a little way away from my parents', and my husband would probably be a miner. And now.. now I'm here and I have to figure out everything all over again. It's just... really hard."
"Mineholder's wife to brownrider. That's a big change." P'draig's face continues to be touched by sympathy. "I was going to be a Baker. And be weyrmated to this girl I stood with the first time for the rest of my life. Have kids, a family. Not have to worry about Thread. It supposedly being an Interval and all." He pauses, clears his throat and goes on. "I got some of those things for a little while. And I'm thinking, Vrys, that if you still want a partner and family, that you can make those happen some day."
"Thank you, sir," she says, knuckling her eyes one last time before standing. "I'm sorry for, for getting all weepy on you like that. I haven't tried to talk to -my- Weyrlingmaster, because I think I knew I'd cry, and, well..." Again there's a sheepish smile. "I think he's three times my age. It'd feel /strange/. If there's anything I can do, please - let me know? Anything."
"Easier to cry in front of a complete stranger?" P'draig quirks a brow and a wry smile Vrys' way and drains the last of his wine, standing as she does. "Huh. Well I'd guess there's only about ten or so turns between you and me, so I guess if that's more comforting, I'm glad I could help." He reaches over to clasp her shoulder gently. "Try the breathing exercise, maybe even make it part of your day and just remember: you're not the only one who's scared or whose life got upended by Impression. You're not alone, Vrys. There's no shame in what you're feeling or how you are." His hand lifts away and he turns to walk her to the door. "Don't be a stranger, okay? If you need an ear, c'mon by again. Just have Xoneth bespeak Jekzith, make sure I'm around first."
"Easier to cry when it doesn't feel like my grandfather," she corrects with another watery smile. She lays her fingers on his for a moment, then nods. "Thank you. That really helps. I'll try the breathing - I'll try it now. And I'll be sure to let you know how it works." Stopping just inside the door she adds, "And if you need someone to watch Palia, just ask? I'd be happy to." Her lips press together for a second, then she flushes, pulls open the door and hurries outside.
P'draig nods just once. "You'll do fine, Vrys. Chin up," he encourages and then blinks in surprise. "Palia? Well if you'd like to ... though she does have a full-time nurse." And she's hurrying off, with his sudden, "Clear skies," following after.