LOG: Complaints
Date: Day 8, Month 11, Turn 26
Location: Mountain Meadow, High Reaches Weyr
Synopsis: Meara takes a handful of the weyrlings on a flight outside the weyr.
Mountain Meadow
A long, broad valley sandwiched between taller mountain peaks, its lush grasses stand at waist height in the summertime and sway gently in the constant breeze, dying back only in early winter. In spring, the meadow comes alive, turning the ocean of green into a sea of reds, blues, yellows and oranges as tiny flowers burst into bloom. At dawn and dusk, small herds of wild herbivores might be seen at the end of the valley as shadowy shapes who keep well away from visitors. Winding along the edge of the mountain base as it follows a downward slope, a small stream provides clear, fresh water from the snow-capped peaks.
With all of the dragons in the air, now, and most of them with /riders/ attached, the weyrlings have been taking the occasional trip outside the weyr - a change of scenery! Of course, it's relatively wet and miserable, most of the time, but the sun is peeking through the clouds at the moment, making it /almost/ pleasant. Isath carries her rider as well as Rhaelyn, but the rest are flying /with/ their riders as they come to a landing upon the autumnal grasses. "Might almost be /nice/ out here," remarks the Weyrlingmaster, cheerfully, as she extracts herself from the straps. More loudly: "Dismount! Let's take a break."
E'gin swings a leg over the neck of Vysravth, and slides easily down the brown in dismount. The brown gets a smack on the haunches, it's affectionate enough. A huff is given in return. The weyrling rolls his leaves up enjoying the almost pleasant weather, it isn't as cold as the barracks have been for them, lately. "That is still awesome." Even the usually composed male can't wipe the wild grin from his face. "Will it always be this exciting?" The release that flying gives the pair is a welcome change from the coldness he's been receiving from the other weyrlings.
There's a certain look to someone who has a migraine headache. That grey around the eyes, the occasional wince when a sound is too loud, or a light too bright. This is how Rhaelyn looks right now, and it's not easy to guess that she's dealing with a very upset lifemate railing against the unfairness of her lot. "Yeah. Looks great." Is Rhae's forced cheerful response with a slow smile tacked onto the end of if. There's grace enough in the dismounting, though she winces as she lands, closing her eyes.
Dragon> To Isath, Amareth's pin-points of green shine like hot little lasers in the direction of the elder green. Despite her best efforts, her weyrling has blocked her out so she has to take her lament to the next target, << I think that it would be best if I could be given a chance. Just a chance is all. Surely I should be allowed to do what dragons do. It doesn't make any sense for me to stay land-bound like this. It's not right for a dragon to be without her rider. You must be very careful with her. >> And other things along that line.
Meara can't be completely unaware of Rhaelyn's plight, because her expression is utterly sympathetic as she says, "We'll have her in the air very soon, Rhaelyn, I promise. A few short glides before too much longer at least, I should think." Sympathy aside, though, she's all grins for E'gin and the other weyrlings on their trip, stretching her shoulder muscles once she's safely on the ground as she adds, "It's always special, E'gin. You and your dragon; just the two of you." Isath's low thrum is a pretty good indication of that. "I've got sandwiches and drinks in my packs. Anyone ready for lunch?"
Dragon> To Amareth, Isath is soothing - whisper-light, but a constant presence as if determined to reassure the younger green that she's never actually alone. << I will be very, very careful, >> she assures her. << It won't be much longer, Amareth. But if you tried to fly and hurt yourself... you might never fly again. Why don't you ask her to let you watch through her eyes? >>
Dragon> To Isath, Amareth gleams a little brighter, a little more vibrant and hot, << I am strong. Why won't anyone believe me? >> She shows off the various ideas she has for her would-be-glide. The way she's planning to use her wings the tail, the sweep of her neck, on 'paper' it looks perfect. Then she shows images of her clutch mates skidding and stumbling << Everyone got a chance. I am so much stronger! >> There's just disappointment to answer the suggestion, the walls have come up to block her out after her little stunt to stop her weyrling from going.
E'gin listens unobtrusively as Meara promises flight for the broken green, the corners of his lips are pulled down in a thoughtful frown, distrust lingers in his look, but it quickly disolves as he returns the weyrlingmasters grin. "Always..." His thought trails off wistfully, at least no one can ever take that from that, "True freedom." Hands are shoved into his pants pockets as he makes his way towards the picnic. "Lunch, I'm famished." And this is flying practice in the disguise of fun, he'll take it.
Dragon> << I believe you. >> Isath seems genuine about it, too, and yet-- and yet. << Soon, Amareth. Soon. >> She adjusts the younger green's mental image, stilling her wings and letting them catch only the thermals-- no wingbeats. << I will show you, >> she adds, extending, then, an image of the meadow where the little group have settled. << I think there is less wind back at the weyr; if you sit in the sun, you'll probably get more enjoyment than we will. >> (Isath to Amareth)
Rhaelyn has nothing but skepticism for the assurances given by Meara, "I think it would be great if you could see it in you to allow her to take the acceptable risk. You know...." Here her voice trails off, remembering that E'gin is there, the Wingleader and punishmaster she bites back anything else she might say or admit to. There's a little shake of her head to refuse the food, "Thanks, but I think I just need to....catch my breath a bit."
"Rhaelyn," says Meara, firmly. "It's not an acceptable risk, not yet. If she hurt something, she might end up being unable to fly forever. As soon as the dragonhealers give their okay, we'll get her up there. Until then--" She, too, trails off, but it's clearly not because of E'gin. More broadly: "Lunch it is, then. E'gin, why don't you spread out the blankets? There's just here." Attached to Isath, but now, being pulled away. "How's Vysravth feeling?"
Dragon> To Isath, Amareth gives a soft, mental groan at the 'gliding' part and switches the image so that she's gliding over the lake. Nice safe water-landing if she messes up. << I won't scratch up my stomach like so many others did. /or/ twist a limb. >> Confident about that, willing Isath to believe and trust her young skills. The image makes her thoughts ripple if tangible envy and jealousy. That's /her/ weyrling. /SHE/ should be there. The emotion is a painful twisting pinch of sensation. No wonder Rhae's not feeling like eating. << It's not fair. >>
Dragon> To Amareth, Isath, quietly. << I know it isn't. I'm sorry, Amareth. >> She'll keep sharing the images of the meadow, though: the wind, the clouds, the weyrlings setting up for lunch. << We won't be away for too long. And then we'll bring Rhaelyn back to you, I promise. >>
"How soon will you know?" E'gin can't help it. The question is asked quietly while the blankets are unfolded, shaken out in the air, and brought gently down to the ground. He pauses only a moment to glance at the woman before going back to straightening corners, "He's good, we could both use a little more stamina, I think. But that will come with time." Vysravth stretches out his bulky wings and huffs in protest to the comment.
Dragon> To Isath, Amareth, usually so cheerful, is quiet now and murmurs, << Thank you. >> Gracious and thankful to the other green for sharing, subdued and thoughtful now she can watch the images from afar.
"Oh, it's fine." Rhaelyn surrenders up with small waves a hand to brush the concern away. Pain still lingering in her eyes she moves to help with the blankets, glad of some task to do. "Maybe they will let us look at some ground weyrs. Since it's really not very realistic to get up to those cliffsides." SHe twitches a blanket just so and gets it opened up on her side.
"We'll see," says Meara, apparently not inclined to be led into any kind of date range. She lays out the packages of sandwiches, as well as a few bottles of juice and water, and folds herself into a cross-legged position on one of the blankets. "We'll get you flying, Rhaelyn. It may take a little longer, but you can have the highest weyr with the best view possible - and you'll be able to get in and out of it. I promise." To E'gin, "Mm, yes. It'll come. Practice and lots of it. Eventually, you'll be flying six hour sweeps, after all."
E'gin seems even more suspicious of the vague answer, "When do the dragonhealers look at her again, Rhae?" The blankets straight, he pulls his shoulders back to examine his dragon before he answers, nodding slightly to the brown he turns back to the weyrlingmaster, "We'd like practice as much as we can. Has anyone ever been cleared early to fly on their own? Not far, just you know, to build up stamina, around the bowl." The question appeases the dragon and he settles down, curling his tail around his side, and lowering his head to examine the green-weyrling.
"It's a long road from being unable to glide to flying to the highest points." Rhaelyn says with the same skepticism, "But we won't stop our physical therapy." She suggests to E'gin, friendly enough, "Do laps around the lake, swimming with some sand bags around you....you wouldn't believe how hard you have to work." Obviously part of what she and her lifemate do under the dragonhealer's watchful eyes.
Meara's head shakes, firmly. "Give it time, E'gin. Keep working those muscles on the ground - or in the water, at least until that freezes - and it won't be too long before you're cleared to fly at will. Probably next month sometime." She unpacks the sandwiches, laying them out on the blanket and naming the varieties, one after another: jam, ham and cheese, peanut butter. Taking a ham and cheese for herself, she adds, "It'll happen, Rhaelyn. I'm not saying it isn't awful and frustrating in the meantime, but it /will/ happen."
"Okay, thought it was worth a try." E'gin gives a sly but honest grin to the weyrlingmaster before settling on to the blanket. His legs are crossed beneath him as he reaches for a PB&J. Food taken he turns to Rhaelyn with a nod, "No, I guess I can't..." He pauses and offers a smile, though he turns away after a brief moment, "But I am proud of you, I'm not sure most people would be able to put up the fight you are." A grin before he takes his first bite, "But you never take no for an answer...that dragon couldn't have found a better match."
Rhaelyn hadn't totally disregarded E'gin's question about the dragonhealer, just waited a moment to respond about it, "I see the healers once a week now. But we spend two or three hours doing laps in the lake and...other things. I guess most folks think we're lounging and sipp'n tea." Not that Rhae really counters those rumors mind you. Sitting down on the blanket she keeps her eyes off the food, "Thanks? I guess. She's the determined one."
Meara holds her silence, concentrating, instead, upon her sandwich, as the two weyrlings nearest to her talk. It's after she swallows her mouthful, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, that the middle-aged Weyrlingmaster puts in, "You're doing an admirable job, Rhaelyn; E'gin's right about that." Evidently she's noticed the work the weyrling has been doing, since their less positive conversation. "I do respect how difficult it must be."
Gaze flickers up from his sandwich to Meara, E'gin eyes narrow as he stares at the woman for a second. Thoughtfully, his eyebrows pull together, before they fall back onto his food, like a dragon on a beast. Jelly spurts from the sides as his fingers clamp around the sides, and he tears a bite off. He shrugs at Rhaelyn, "Maybe, but it takes both of you. We don't function alone anymore."
Rhaelyn does her both to school her pride and does a reasonable job of it, "I think it's what any dragonrider would do for his or her lifemate. But I /do/ appreciate the compliment." And gracious too? As jelly makes a mess of E'gin's hands she goes a little pale but laughs, shaking her head,, "That looks....disgusting...." Still honest though.
Brows raised, Meara glances at E'gin as he stares at her: what? her expression seems to ask, though she doesn't venture the question out loud. Instead; "That does look disgusting. So. Does it feel like four and a half months that you've been dragonriders, now? Or longer? Or shorter? E'gin, has anyone complained at you about your wingleader methods, yet?"
E'gin looks slowly down at his bleeding lunch, a long minute passes before he realizes what he has done. "Sorry, Vysravth..." He glances up at the brown. If anyone has seen him eat, they don't need an explination. Rhaelyn's comment receives a slanted head, confused expression, "You're welcome?" His tone raises up at the end as if in question. He turns back to Meara, considers her for a moment, opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again. A sideways glance is shot at Rhaelyn, then he turns back to the weyrlingmaster, "Not to my face, though I am sure they have been talking." The tone indicates the "talking" isn't about how they would like to shower him with gifts and love, "...But Lina..." He shrugs softly and drops whatever he was about to say, "You heard anything Rhae?" His tone is rather uncaring, this is all for Meara's benefit.
"I hear a lot of things." Rhaelyn notes with a tone that suggests that both he and Meara should know she has an ear to the ground. There's a little shrug of her shoulders before she confesses, "I think that a wingleader should be more in tune with what his, or her, wing thinks of them. Moral and all that. Although I guess that's just my opinion." She doesn't look at E'gin, though it's most likely because of the state of his food and her questionable headache.
Meara rolls her shoulders, wiping the crumbs off of her hands as she does so. "A wingleader," she begins, after a few moments, her gaze sliding between one weyrling and the next, "needs to be in tune with his wing. That's true. But sometimes a wingleader needs to do what is best for the wing-- even if that isn't well-liked. That's part of leadership. It's not much fun not being liked, though."
E'gin nods to Rhaelyn, "I know." It is all he can say, he's voice drops to a whisper as he frowns sadly at his sandwich. The undertone of defeat is all the explinatio n that he seems willing to give Rhaelyn, until Meara interjects. He lifts his gaze from his oh-so-interesting lunch to the weyrlingmaster. His look this time is a mild confusion and a thankfulness, but it falls back to the peanut-buttered bread. The alienation of one of two people he cares about, he mutters, "I know." Again, he silence covered only by his domination of his food.
"Well, then I guess the real question should be, are you getting the desired results?" Rhaelyn asks and then gives Meara a curious look, "I thought that you put a lot of weight on a leader having compassion for their peers. I must have understood." E'gin gets a thoughtful, measuring look, particularly with that tone of defeat. "huh."
There's at least a small amount of concern in Meara's expression as she glances back at E'gin, the line of her mouth a tight, thin one: almost a frown. Rhaelyn's words earn a shake of her head; "Yes, of course. A leader needs compassion. But there's a fine line, there: a leader needs to be able to make difficult decisions. E'gin is--" She hesitates, then puts a smile back onto her face. "Doing very good work."
E'gin consults the bread thoughtfully before answering Rhaelyn's question and nods, "I think so. Only you could really tell me that." He lifts his head to face her, "If you were willing to tell me." The final acknowledgement that they are probably no longer friends. He glances back at Meara, and his jaw sets, his only acknowledgement of her compliment is the pulling of his chin to his chest in a nod. "Thank you."
Rhaelyn's lips twitch, "Well, you either think we're all a bunch of sloppy sots and your extra assignments are going to sharpen us up. /OR/ you're sour that the wing riders are just that...wing riders...and don't have extra assignments like the special leadership candidates. So you're giving us a taste of it...but without any of the benefits of getting to make any choices ourselves." She lays it out without any emotion behind it, just as she sees it. "I am sure you just want to tighten things up but is an exhausted, morale compromised wing a good trade? Are you happy with the results?"
Although Meara's head inclines into a nod, accepting E'gin's thanks, she doesn't manage to open her mouth to say anything before Rhaelyn's tirade takes form. It seems to take her by surprise: her dark eyes focus upon the other greenrider, her mouth just slightly open. Finally: "Rhaelyn?"
Despite Meara's suprise E'gin seems ready for what he hears. "Actually it is none of that." He frowns, only the two plundering bites have been taken from his lunch, he sets it down. "But what I think you are saying is what /everyone/ is saying not just those of us from the island." He stares at her pointedly. "If that is the case, then yes." He pauses, will Meara understand his trust of Rhaelyn?
Rhaelyn didn't mean to make it a tirade, she was just giving her opinion, no heat or emotion behind it. When Meara says her name she blinks and looks over at her, "What?" He /asked/. I didn't say I was right." her nose crinkles and she turns back to E'gin, "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I'm not in the damn leader program. To be honest, I don't think -everyone- is saying it. And you're the leader, you should own it. Shouldn't he own it?"
"It's up to E'gin what he owns, what he doesn't. He's the leader. He's learning from what he does," is Meara's even-toned contribution to the conversation. Her hands are pressed to her knees, now, one resting on each; her gaze slips from one to the other, then back again.
"Who isn't owning it?" E'gin looks at Rhaelyn, "Have I ever once complained about the way people treat me? Even you." He sneers softly at Rhaelyn, before turning back to Meara, "I think it is working just fine. I don't necessarily enjoy the results myself, but I know it is better this way." He turns half of his back to his fellow weyrling, his entire focus now on his meal, a final resolution to his action.
Dragon> It's just soft, not intended as in intrusion. << Meara says he doesn't need to take it all upon himself. Even a leader ought to have people he can depend on and talk to. >> There's a sense, even though she doesn't say it outright, that her rider worries. Knows, understands-- but worries. (Isath to Vysravth)
There's a smile for E'gin's sneer, "No, I guess you haven't." Rhaelyn watches him, not doing anything to stop the back being offered to her. "I wonder though, how you'll feel when one of the others have their chance at leadership."
Meara gives E'gin a slow nod, her gaze not shifting from his face for several long moments. Then, answering Rhaelyn, "Well, that's the thing about weyrling leadership. It's a chance for people to get a feel for what it's like. To see whether it's something they would be comfortable with, more permanently. One day. It's not for everyone; and that's not a criticism."
Dragon> To Isath, Vysravth is quiet at first. Thoughtful only the sweet smell of rust invades the mindspace, <>
Dragon> To Vysravth, Isath doesn't even pretend to understand the intricacies of /that/ particular statement, but she accepts Vysravth's rusted remarks, following hers with a wave of moonlight. << It is well, then. Tell him to come and debrief with us, at the end of his month. There will be things to speak of. >>
E'gin runs a hand through shaggy hair before answering Rhaelyn. His lips pull tightly as he studies her, "How I will feel isn't really the point." Another pause, a finger is jammed through the bread and jelly like spear, sticking out the backside of the other slice, a final look at Rhaelyn, before his eyes fall to food in defeat. A beat, and he look at Meara giving a formal nod.
"Well, I guess a leader will just get what he, or she, wants, even if it means upsetting some people." Rhaelyn notes, not looking at anyone but instead she is looking out across the meadow. "And there's only...how many wingleaders? I don't think the wingleaders already in place will give up their spots..."
"No." Meara's answer is firm. "If a Wingleader does only what he or she wants, without care for people? He or she is not doing his or her job effectively. But it's a balancing act; it's difficult. That's why we don't give that kind of position to people until they've some experience… most of the time, anyway." There's a pause, her gaze sliding back towards E'gin, a nod matching his. And finally; "There are twelve wingleaders, at the moment. People retire. Resign. Move on. If being Wingleader is what a person really wanted… there's no reason it couldn't happen eventually."
"What? You think this is fun for me Rhae? I'm up whenever one else is too, I work just as hard as I ask everyone else too." E'gin's voice rises for a moment, before checked. He doesn't look anywhere else his gazed is fixed on the girl, "You think I like it that no one talks to me anymore? Good fun. But if you haven't learned to trust me after..." He shakes his head, waves the girl off dismissively and turns back to Meara listening carefully. Retirement, resignation, mental notes are taken. "Do you guys know who leadership goes to next?" There is some note of importance in E'gin's question. "It might be helpful...to talk to - them."
Rhaelyn holds up her hands as a sign of peace, "I would have thought it was what you wanted. That's all. I don't think it's /fun/." When E'gin waves her off so dismissively she just rolls her eyes and holds her tongue. Instead she lays back on the blanket and slowly rolls onto her side, content to listen instead of run her mouth any longer.
Meara walks a careful line around the edges of this conversation, clearly trying not to fall into the trap of getting between the two weyrlings, though her mouth purses and it does seem as though there are things she might /like/ to interject. Instead, she answers the question posed directly to her: "I don't know. Who do /you/ think ought to be next, Wingleader?"
E'gin is content enough to ignore his clutchmate - islandmate -ex friend for now. He considers Meara's question, as he sets his lunch back down, giving up on ever being able to eat it. "The next wingleader." A hand slides down his five o'clock shadow as he ponders, "Emme." Is his answer, "Or Quinlys...probably Quinlys," It seems hesitant, "It was an exile with me, if the goal is to bond us, it probably shouldn't be too heavily exiles. People would notice, but they are both solid riders - so far. Quinlys is perhaps a little better at strategy, if only because I have had her in back, so she's seen how everyone flies." He seems confident in the final choice.
"Emme," repeats Meara. "Or Quinlys. Hm. I shall keep that under advisement, I think." Her forward dipped head seems to mark an end to that end of the conversation; she considers E'gin for a few moments more, however, before adding: "Ready to head back home? Think he's up for some more flying?"
E'gin notes the tie up of the conversation quietly, her question is met with a grin as the boy finds his way to his feet. A glint of mischief has returned to his eyes, "Up for it? We're up for anything."
"I thought you would be," is Meara's amused reply, made as she crawls back to her feet with surprising bounce given her age. The blanket gets packed up, along with the sandwiches and other remains of the picnic, and then it's back to the dragons for a leisurely flight home.
Location: Mountain Meadow, High Reaches Weyr
Synopsis: Meara takes a handful of the weyrlings on a flight outside the weyr.
Mountain Meadow
A long, broad valley sandwiched between taller mountain peaks, its lush grasses stand at waist height in the summertime and sway gently in the constant breeze, dying back only in early winter. In spring, the meadow comes alive, turning the ocean of green into a sea of reds, blues, yellows and oranges as tiny flowers burst into bloom. At dawn and dusk, small herds of wild herbivores might be seen at the end of the valley as shadowy shapes who keep well away from visitors. Winding along the edge of the mountain base as it follows a downward slope, a small stream provides clear, fresh water from the snow-capped peaks.
With all of the dragons in the air, now, and most of them with /riders/ attached, the weyrlings have been taking the occasional trip outside the weyr - a change of scenery! Of course, it's relatively wet and miserable, most of the time, but the sun is peeking through the clouds at the moment, making it /almost/ pleasant. Isath carries her rider as well as Rhaelyn, but the rest are flying /with/ their riders as they come to a landing upon the autumnal grasses. "Might almost be /nice/ out here," remarks the Weyrlingmaster, cheerfully, as she extracts herself from the straps. More loudly: "Dismount! Let's take a break."
E'gin swings a leg over the neck of Vysravth, and slides easily down the brown in dismount. The brown gets a smack on the haunches, it's affectionate enough. A huff is given in return. The weyrling rolls his leaves up enjoying the almost pleasant weather, it isn't as cold as the barracks have been for them, lately. "That is still awesome." Even the usually composed male can't wipe the wild grin from his face. "Will it always be this exciting?" The release that flying gives the pair is a welcome change from the coldness he's been receiving from the other weyrlings.
There's a certain look to someone who has a migraine headache. That grey around the eyes, the occasional wince when a sound is too loud, or a light too bright. This is how Rhaelyn looks right now, and it's not easy to guess that she's dealing with a very upset lifemate railing against the unfairness of her lot. "Yeah. Looks great." Is Rhae's forced cheerful response with a slow smile tacked onto the end of if. There's grace enough in the dismounting, though she winces as she lands, closing her eyes.
Dragon> To Isath, Amareth's pin-points of green shine like hot little lasers in the direction of the elder green. Despite her best efforts, her weyrling has blocked her out so she has to take her lament to the next target, << I think that it would be best if I could be given a chance. Just a chance is all. Surely I should be allowed to do what dragons do. It doesn't make any sense for me to stay land-bound like this. It's not right for a dragon to be without her rider. You must be very careful with her. >> And other things along that line.
Meara can't be completely unaware of Rhaelyn's plight, because her expression is utterly sympathetic as she says, "We'll have her in the air very soon, Rhaelyn, I promise. A few short glides before too much longer at least, I should think." Sympathy aside, though, she's all grins for E'gin and the other weyrlings on their trip, stretching her shoulder muscles once she's safely on the ground as she adds, "It's always special, E'gin. You and your dragon; just the two of you." Isath's low thrum is a pretty good indication of that. "I've got sandwiches and drinks in my packs. Anyone ready for lunch?"
Dragon> To Amareth, Isath is soothing - whisper-light, but a constant presence as if determined to reassure the younger green that she's never actually alone. << I will be very, very careful, >> she assures her. << It won't be much longer, Amareth. But if you tried to fly and hurt yourself... you might never fly again. Why don't you ask her to let you watch through her eyes? >>
Dragon> To Isath, Amareth gleams a little brighter, a little more vibrant and hot, << I am strong. Why won't anyone believe me? >> She shows off the various ideas she has for her would-be-glide. The way she's planning to use her wings the tail, the sweep of her neck, on 'paper' it looks perfect. Then she shows images of her clutch mates skidding and stumbling << Everyone got a chance. I am so much stronger! >> There's just disappointment to answer the suggestion, the walls have come up to block her out after her little stunt to stop her weyrling from going.
E'gin listens unobtrusively as Meara promises flight for the broken green, the corners of his lips are pulled down in a thoughtful frown, distrust lingers in his look, but it quickly disolves as he returns the weyrlingmasters grin. "Always..." His thought trails off wistfully, at least no one can ever take that from that, "True freedom." Hands are shoved into his pants pockets as he makes his way towards the picnic. "Lunch, I'm famished." And this is flying practice in the disguise of fun, he'll take it.
Dragon> << I believe you. >> Isath seems genuine about it, too, and yet-- and yet. << Soon, Amareth. Soon. >> She adjusts the younger green's mental image, stilling her wings and letting them catch only the thermals-- no wingbeats. << I will show you, >> she adds, extending, then, an image of the meadow where the little group have settled. << I think there is less wind back at the weyr; if you sit in the sun, you'll probably get more enjoyment than we will. >> (Isath to Amareth)
Rhaelyn has nothing but skepticism for the assurances given by Meara, "I think it would be great if you could see it in you to allow her to take the acceptable risk. You know...." Here her voice trails off, remembering that E'gin is there, the Wingleader and punishmaster she bites back anything else she might say or admit to. There's a little shake of her head to refuse the food, "Thanks, but I think I just need to....catch my breath a bit."
"Rhaelyn," says Meara, firmly. "It's not an acceptable risk, not yet. If she hurt something, she might end up being unable to fly forever. As soon as the dragonhealers give their okay, we'll get her up there. Until then--" She, too, trails off, but it's clearly not because of E'gin. More broadly: "Lunch it is, then. E'gin, why don't you spread out the blankets? There's just here." Attached to Isath, but now, being pulled away. "How's Vysravth feeling?"
Dragon> To Isath, Amareth gives a soft, mental groan at the 'gliding' part and switches the image so that she's gliding over the lake. Nice safe water-landing if she messes up. << I won't scratch up my stomach like so many others did. /or/ twist a limb. >> Confident about that, willing Isath to believe and trust her young skills. The image makes her thoughts ripple if tangible envy and jealousy. That's /her/ weyrling. /SHE/ should be there. The emotion is a painful twisting pinch of sensation. No wonder Rhae's not feeling like eating. << It's not fair. >>
Dragon> To Amareth, Isath, quietly. << I know it isn't. I'm sorry, Amareth. >> She'll keep sharing the images of the meadow, though: the wind, the clouds, the weyrlings setting up for lunch. << We won't be away for too long. And then we'll bring Rhaelyn back to you, I promise. >>
"How soon will you know?" E'gin can't help it. The question is asked quietly while the blankets are unfolded, shaken out in the air, and brought gently down to the ground. He pauses only a moment to glance at the woman before going back to straightening corners, "He's good, we could both use a little more stamina, I think. But that will come with time." Vysravth stretches out his bulky wings and huffs in protest to the comment.
Dragon> To Isath, Amareth, usually so cheerful, is quiet now and murmurs, << Thank you. >> Gracious and thankful to the other green for sharing, subdued and thoughtful now she can watch the images from afar.
"Oh, it's fine." Rhaelyn surrenders up with small waves a hand to brush the concern away. Pain still lingering in her eyes she moves to help with the blankets, glad of some task to do. "Maybe they will let us look at some ground weyrs. Since it's really not very realistic to get up to those cliffsides." SHe twitches a blanket just so and gets it opened up on her side.
"We'll see," says Meara, apparently not inclined to be led into any kind of date range. She lays out the packages of sandwiches, as well as a few bottles of juice and water, and folds herself into a cross-legged position on one of the blankets. "We'll get you flying, Rhaelyn. It may take a little longer, but you can have the highest weyr with the best view possible - and you'll be able to get in and out of it. I promise." To E'gin, "Mm, yes. It'll come. Practice and lots of it. Eventually, you'll be flying six hour sweeps, after all."
E'gin seems even more suspicious of the vague answer, "When do the dragonhealers look at her again, Rhae?" The blankets straight, he pulls his shoulders back to examine his dragon before he answers, nodding slightly to the brown he turns back to the weyrlingmaster, "We'd like practice as much as we can. Has anyone ever been cleared early to fly on their own? Not far, just you know, to build up stamina, around the bowl." The question appeases the dragon and he settles down, curling his tail around his side, and lowering his head to examine the green-weyrling.
"It's a long road from being unable to glide to flying to the highest points." Rhaelyn says with the same skepticism, "But we won't stop our physical therapy." She suggests to E'gin, friendly enough, "Do laps around the lake, swimming with some sand bags around you....you wouldn't believe how hard you have to work." Obviously part of what she and her lifemate do under the dragonhealer's watchful eyes.
Meara's head shakes, firmly. "Give it time, E'gin. Keep working those muscles on the ground - or in the water, at least until that freezes - and it won't be too long before you're cleared to fly at will. Probably next month sometime." She unpacks the sandwiches, laying them out on the blanket and naming the varieties, one after another: jam, ham and cheese, peanut butter. Taking a ham and cheese for herself, she adds, "It'll happen, Rhaelyn. I'm not saying it isn't awful and frustrating in the meantime, but it /will/ happen."
"Okay, thought it was worth a try." E'gin gives a sly but honest grin to the weyrlingmaster before settling on to the blanket. His legs are crossed beneath him as he reaches for a PB&J. Food taken he turns to Rhaelyn with a nod, "No, I guess I can't..." He pauses and offers a smile, though he turns away after a brief moment, "But I am proud of you, I'm not sure most people would be able to put up the fight you are." A grin before he takes his first bite, "But you never take no for an answer...that dragon couldn't have found a better match."
Rhaelyn hadn't totally disregarded E'gin's question about the dragonhealer, just waited a moment to respond about it, "I see the healers once a week now. But we spend two or three hours doing laps in the lake and...other things. I guess most folks think we're lounging and sipp'n tea." Not that Rhae really counters those rumors mind you. Sitting down on the blanket she keeps her eyes off the food, "Thanks? I guess. She's the determined one."
Meara holds her silence, concentrating, instead, upon her sandwich, as the two weyrlings nearest to her talk. It's after she swallows her mouthful, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, that the middle-aged Weyrlingmaster puts in, "You're doing an admirable job, Rhaelyn; E'gin's right about that." Evidently she's noticed the work the weyrling has been doing, since their less positive conversation. "I do respect how difficult it must be."
Gaze flickers up from his sandwich to Meara, E'gin eyes narrow as he stares at the woman for a second. Thoughtfully, his eyebrows pull together, before they fall back onto his food, like a dragon on a beast. Jelly spurts from the sides as his fingers clamp around the sides, and he tears a bite off. He shrugs at Rhaelyn, "Maybe, but it takes both of you. We don't function alone anymore."
Rhaelyn does her both to school her pride and does a reasonable job of it, "I think it's what any dragonrider would do for his or her lifemate. But I /do/ appreciate the compliment." And gracious too? As jelly makes a mess of E'gin's hands she goes a little pale but laughs, shaking her head,, "That looks....disgusting...." Still honest though.
Brows raised, Meara glances at E'gin as he stares at her: what? her expression seems to ask, though she doesn't venture the question out loud. Instead; "That does look disgusting. So. Does it feel like four and a half months that you've been dragonriders, now? Or longer? Or shorter? E'gin, has anyone complained at you about your wingleader methods, yet?"
E'gin looks slowly down at his bleeding lunch, a long minute passes before he realizes what he has done. "Sorry, Vysravth..." He glances up at the brown. If anyone has seen him eat, they don't need an explination. Rhaelyn's comment receives a slanted head, confused expression, "You're welcome?" His tone raises up at the end as if in question. He turns back to Meara, considers her for a moment, opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again. A sideways glance is shot at Rhaelyn, then he turns back to the weyrlingmaster, "Not to my face, though I am sure they have been talking." The tone indicates the "talking" isn't about how they would like to shower him with gifts and love, "...But Lina..." He shrugs softly and drops whatever he was about to say, "You heard anything Rhae?" His tone is rather uncaring, this is all for Meara's benefit.
"I hear a lot of things." Rhaelyn notes with a tone that suggests that both he and Meara should know she has an ear to the ground. There's a little shrug of her shoulders before she confesses, "I think that a wingleader should be more in tune with what his, or her, wing thinks of them. Moral and all that. Although I guess that's just my opinion." She doesn't look at E'gin, though it's most likely because of the state of his food and her questionable headache.
Meara rolls her shoulders, wiping the crumbs off of her hands as she does so. "A wingleader," she begins, after a few moments, her gaze sliding between one weyrling and the next, "needs to be in tune with his wing. That's true. But sometimes a wingleader needs to do what is best for the wing-- even if that isn't well-liked. That's part of leadership. It's not much fun not being liked, though."
E'gin nods to Rhaelyn, "I know." It is all he can say, he's voice drops to a whisper as he frowns sadly at his sandwich. The undertone of defeat is all the explinatio n that he seems willing to give Rhaelyn, until Meara interjects. He lifts his gaze from his oh-so-interesting lunch to the weyrlingmaster. His look this time is a mild confusion and a thankfulness, but it falls back to the peanut-buttered bread. The alienation of one of two people he cares about, he mutters, "I know." Again, he silence covered only by his domination of his food.
"Well, then I guess the real question should be, are you getting the desired results?" Rhaelyn asks and then gives Meara a curious look, "I thought that you put a lot of weight on a leader having compassion for their peers. I must have understood." E'gin gets a thoughtful, measuring look, particularly with that tone of defeat. "huh."
There's at least a small amount of concern in Meara's expression as she glances back at E'gin, the line of her mouth a tight, thin one: almost a frown. Rhaelyn's words earn a shake of her head; "Yes, of course. A leader needs compassion. But there's a fine line, there: a leader needs to be able to make difficult decisions. E'gin is--" She hesitates, then puts a smile back onto her face. "Doing very good work."
E'gin consults the bread thoughtfully before answering Rhaelyn's question and nods, "I think so. Only you could really tell me that." He lifts his head to face her, "If you were willing to tell me." The final acknowledgement that they are probably no longer friends. He glances back at Meara, and his jaw sets, his only acknowledgement of her compliment is the pulling of his chin to his chest in a nod. "Thank you."
Rhaelyn's lips twitch, "Well, you either think we're all a bunch of sloppy sots and your extra assignments are going to sharpen us up. /OR/ you're sour that the wing riders are just that...wing riders...and don't have extra assignments like the special leadership candidates. So you're giving us a taste of it...but without any of the benefits of getting to make any choices ourselves." She lays it out without any emotion behind it, just as she sees it. "I am sure you just want to tighten things up but is an exhausted, morale compromised wing a good trade? Are you happy with the results?"
Although Meara's head inclines into a nod, accepting E'gin's thanks, she doesn't manage to open her mouth to say anything before Rhaelyn's tirade takes form. It seems to take her by surprise: her dark eyes focus upon the other greenrider, her mouth just slightly open. Finally: "Rhaelyn?"
Despite Meara's suprise E'gin seems ready for what he hears. "Actually it is none of that." He frowns, only the two plundering bites have been taken from his lunch, he sets it down. "But what I think you are saying is what /everyone/ is saying not just those of us from the island." He stares at her pointedly. "If that is the case, then yes." He pauses, will Meara understand his trust of Rhaelyn?
Rhaelyn didn't mean to make it a tirade, she was just giving her opinion, no heat or emotion behind it. When Meara says her name she blinks and looks over at her, "What?" He /asked/. I didn't say I was right." her nose crinkles and she turns back to E'gin, "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I'm not in the damn leader program. To be honest, I don't think -everyone- is saying it. And you're the leader, you should own it. Shouldn't he own it?"
"It's up to E'gin what he owns, what he doesn't. He's the leader. He's learning from what he does," is Meara's even-toned contribution to the conversation. Her hands are pressed to her knees, now, one resting on each; her gaze slips from one to the other, then back again.
"Who isn't owning it?" E'gin looks at Rhaelyn, "Have I ever once complained about the way people treat me? Even you." He sneers softly at Rhaelyn, before turning back to Meara, "I think it is working just fine. I don't necessarily enjoy the results myself, but I know it is better this way." He turns half of his back to his fellow weyrling, his entire focus now on his meal, a final resolution to his action.
Dragon> It's just soft, not intended as in intrusion. << Meara says he doesn't need to take it all upon himself. Even a leader ought to have people he can depend on and talk to. >> There's a sense, even though she doesn't say it outright, that her rider worries. Knows, understands-- but worries. (Isath to Vysravth)
There's a smile for E'gin's sneer, "No, I guess you haven't." Rhaelyn watches him, not doing anything to stop the back being offered to her. "I wonder though, how you'll feel when one of the others have their chance at leadership."
Meara gives E'gin a slow nod, her gaze not shifting from his face for several long moments. Then, answering Rhaelyn, "Well, that's the thing about weyrling leadership. It's a chance for people to get a feel for what it's like. To see whether it's something they would be comfortable with, more permanently. One day. It's not for everyone; and that's not a criticism."
Dragon> To Isath, Vysravth is quiet at first. Thoughtful only the sweet smell of rust invades the mindspace, <>
Dragon> To Vysravth, Isath doesn't even pretend to understand the intricacies of /that/ particular statement, but she accepts Vysravth's rusted remarks, following hers with a wave of moonlight. << It is well, then. Tell him to come and debrief with us, at the end of his month. There will be things to speak of. >>
E'gin runs a hand through shaggy hair before answering Rhaelyn. His lips pull tightly as he studies her, "How I will feel isn't really the point." Another pause, a finger is jammed through the bread and jelly like spear, sticking out the backside of the other slice, a final look at Rhaelyn, before his eyes fall to food in defeat. A beat, and he look at Meara giving a formal nod.
"Well, I guess a leader will just get what he, or she, wants, even if it means upsetting some people." Rhaelyn notes, not looking at anyone but instead she is looking out across the meadow. "And there's only...how many wingleaders? I don't think the wingleaders already in place will give up their spots..."
"No." Meara's answer is firm. "If a Wingleader does only what he or she wants, without care for people? He or she is not doing his or her job effectively. But it's a balancing act; it's difficult. That's why we don't give that kind of position to people until they've some experience… most of the time, anyway." There's a pause, her gaze sliding back towards E'gin, a nod matching his. And finally; "There are twelve wingleaders, at the moment. People retire. Resign. Move on. If being Wingleader is what a person really wanted… there's no reason it couldn't happen eventually."
"What? You think this is fun for me Rhae? I'm up whenever one else is too, I work just as hard as I ask everyone else too." E'gin's voice rises for a moment, before checked. He doesn't look anywhere else his gazed is fixed on the girl, "You think I like it that no one talks to me anymore? Good fun. But if you haven't learned to trust me after..." He shakes his head, waves the girl off dismissively and turns back to Meara listening carefully. Retirement, resignation, mental notes are taken. "Do you guys know who leadership goes to next?" There is some note of importance in E'gin's question. "It might be helpful...to talk to - them."
Rhaelyn holds up her hands as a sign of peace, "I would have thought it was what you wanted. That's all. I don't think it's /fun/." When E'gin waves her off so dismissively she just rolls her eyes and holds her tongue. Instead she lays back on the blanket and slowly rolls onto her side, content to listen instead of run her mouth any longer.
Meara walks a careful line around the edges of this conversation, clearly trying not to fall into the trap of getting between the two weyrlings, though her mouth purses and it does seem as though there are things she might /like/ to interject. Instead, she answers the question posed directly to her: "I don't know. Who do /you/ think ought to be next, Wingleader?"
E'gin is content enough to ignore his clutchmate - islandmate -ex friend for now. He considers Meara's question, as he sets his lunch back down, giving up on ever being able to eat it. "The next wingleader." A hand slides down his five o'clock shadow as he ponders, "Emme." Is his answer, "Or Quinlys...probably Quinlys," It seems hesitant, "It was an exile with me, if the goal is to bond us, it probably shouldn't be too heavily exiles. People would notice, but they are both solid riders - so far. Quinlys is perhaps a little better at strategy, if only because I have had her in back, so she's seen how everyone flies." He seems confident in the final choice.
"Emme," repeats Meara. "Or Quinlys. Hm. I shall keep that under advisement, I think." Her forward dipped head seems to mark an end to that end of the conversation; she considers E'gin for a few moments more, however, before adding: "Ready to head back home? Think he's up for some more flying?"
E'gin notes the tie up of the conversation quietly, her question is met with a grin as the boy finds his way to his feet. A glint of mischief has returned to his eyes, "Up for it? We're up for anything."
"I thought you would be," is Meara's amused reply, made as she crawls back to her feet with surprising bounce given her age. The blanket gets packed up, along with the sandwiches and other remains of the picnic, and then it's back to the dragons for a leisurely flight home.