Log: Progress Report
RL: May 13, 2008.
VR: Day 11, month 5, Turn 16, of the Interval. It is a spring afternoon.
(Original log from B'yan)
Leova seeks out wingsecond K'del and gets B'yan instead.
Fishing Pond, High Reaches Weyr
The ice seems to have given up on this little finger of the Weyr lake, and the darting forms of fish are visible every once in awhile in the clear, cold waters. The rest of the lake spreads out to the east, separated from this pond by a natural land bridge, but this section feels rather solitary and quiet. The forms of underwater rocks are just visible, adding greens and blues to the rosy water. The Weyr mountain walls loom above in the fresh spring air.
After a hard-flown drill, made all the better for the cool air of spring, it's easy for wingmates to stop and chatter before dispersing along their separate ways. Some of them, at least: three of whom include two of the newest riders in the wing, W'jar and Leova, talking with K'del in low, focused tones. But while Marckilth's settled and near-napping, Vrianth is prowling among the larger dragons with her wings not yet entirely furled, still riding that energy high.
With drills ending, B'yan is quick to dismiss the wingriders and always attempts a hasty getaway. Casting a quick glance about the bowl, as he heads toward the lake, he spots his wingsecond amongst the two riders and is slow to approach. gloves being pulled off one by one, the wingleader ticks a nod towards both W'jar and Leova before murmuring a few low words to K'del.
W'jar's happy to get out from under his wingleader's eye: Leova, not so much, and she returns the nod. And stays where she is, waiting on the senior riders with a not-too-subtly expectant air.
K'del, pausing mid-sentence to Leova and W'jar, turns his head to B'yan's message and exchanges a quick answer. "Let's chat in the Snowasis later," he offers briefly to them before taking his leave, B'yan regarding them rather than his wingsecond as he greets, "Afternoon," and with a subtle raise of his brow to Leova's not so subtle air.
Leova's demeanor shifts as first W'jar and then their wingsecond depart, and she's left with the wingleader instead. But she sets her shoulders: he'll have to do. "A minute?" she asks, reaching up into the air that, moments later, becomes smooth olive-green hide.
"A few," B'yan returns, turning to gesture towards the flat rocks by the lake since W'jar and K'del depart. Following the gesture up by approaching the rocks, "I have some time before I join K'del and them on their sweeps." He settles down on one and sets about straighening his riding jacket and casting a brief glance towards Vrianth.
"Hunting went all right earlier," Leova offers as she follows suit, tracked by Vrianth who pads after her, ignoring the man in favor of her rider and any other dragons who might remain. "Got them back for the butchering without bleeding over anyone who cared. But. Was going to ask," K'del, "About Fraya. Whether it matters, wing-wise, though actually, don't know if you noticed."
"What should I notice?" B'yan picks up the last rather than the beginning easily, though an easy nod of acknowledgement is given to the former. "Been noticing more about how the wing performs together than anything in specific. It was good to see C'hon keeping up better in the formations practice." Looking back at her now, "So. What about Fraya?" he asks.
Leova's turn to nod, for C'hon this time. "Might not matter then, if it doesn't show in the wing," she speculates, leaning a knee on her chosen rock rather than sitting immediately. "If we have settled in enough that it wouldn't have been confused with inexperience. Her avoiding me. Us."
B'yan says "I trust I'daur's teaching," B'yan says briskly, his head tilting slightly to look up at her. "You and Fraya and the rest of you fit in well. I didn't expect trouble. But," and now he leans alittle forward, his voice dropping from something more serious and alittle less easy, "I think you're asking for something other than a progress report. Fraya's avoiding you? In what way? Why?""
All at once Leova's mouth curves up, that assessment of his, but then as her wingleader goes on, she slides slowly downward, one hand flattening on the rock as she sits. And her mouth flattens too. "It's awkward," she admits, and looks away from his gaze then. To the lake, slowly, "Rhadruth's got a thing for /her/. My Vrianth. She says she'll fix it, don't know what she means by that. Or when."
"Rhadruth's got--" B'yan begins to say before breaking off, his hazel eyes seeking out the green bulk of Vrianth and then looking back at her rider. "I see," he drawls, slowly now. "Awkward. She thinks her dragon having it in for yours means that she has to be for her rider, too?"
Leova gives him a sidelong look. Vrianth doesn't. Vrianth's settled just past them, still as a statue, and never mind the elegant tail that's snaked around the rock upon which Leova sits. Purely coincidental. "Like to think she knows better than that. Don't want to get her into trouble either, all right? Just want to understand. And have it not get in the way. She talked about /love letters/," exasperation low in her voice. "Wooing me. Tell me this isn't common."
Blinking once, the confusion touching his features, "She's...not getting in trouble," B'yan states slowly, watching Leova's face closely. "And really, this kind of thing shouldn't affect how things are run in the wing. If Fraya's having trouble with her dragon, or she thinks this kind of thing -will- cause something that might affect the wing...." he trails that off, the unspoken answer of him seeking her out being felt in the air. "If she isn't actually sending you love letters, however," and a shrug comes easily, along with a lopsided grin, "then I think you have nothing to worry about. Wouldn't exactly call it -too- common, but, dragons are always bound to like whomever they please." Snorting with a one quick cast towards his bronze, "Jaireth used to have a thing for Shidreth, and he well knows that I couldn't stand her rider. Wasn't about to send any love letters, either."
with the weight of his eyes on her, Leova stays still, and listens. Hair short as that can't hide her expressions from him: the touch of relief that appears first, the later the hint of a smile that nearly reaches her eyes. "Think they were supposed to be from him, actually. The letters. Can't see Jaireth telling you to write down stuff for him that way, no matter how... fond. How'd he get over it?" That past tense. It takes her longer to mull over the rest. Finally, "Think she'd like her wingleader seeing how she was doing. In general. If you see what I mean."
Jaireth senses that Vrianth, unlike her rider, is not above envisioning his with stylus in hand, Jaireth all sprawled out and dictating what the man should write. Only instead of the other version which Vrianth is ignoring, Jaireth's has sketches of wherries on the run, some arrows, a knife or two. And claws. Plenty of claws.
"Jaireth wouldn't dare," B'yan states wryly, nodding with his chin towards both dragons. "They can talk to each other anyway without needing us mere riders intervene, so I really could care less who Jaireth has the hots for." He shrugs at the question, eyes going towards the pond as he answers with "Dunno. He just does. One moment he's for Shidreth, and the next he's moved on. Not exactly a long term type of one, but I suppose he gets it honest. But anyway," and now regarding the greenrider, "it's not anything to worry about, Leova. Might have to check on Fraya too, let her know that. Don't need to avoid someone over something like this."
Vrianth senses that Jaireth sends his initial silence, heavy and blank as he settles by the pond. The vision is blanketed for a moment before blowed upon, slowly being distorted out of existence. << Ain' the type, >> is all he sends instead of any image in return, his manner abrupt.
"Fair enough." And that's just the sort of casualness that makes it easier for Leova to begin to relax, hand sliding back enough that her fingers can curl around the edge of the stone instead of staying flat. "S'what I said to her, but. Could be different, coming from you. Don't suppose there's any way of not having it come across like I tattled?"
That silence is nearly enough to flatten the image to begin with, but then he dismantles it the rest of the way. << No. You are not. >> That from Vrianth, cool and curious instead of challenging such destruction; there isn't flirtation in it, no more sensual than she was when she reveled in oil, new-hatched. << Are you any type at all, Jaireth? >> (Vrianth to Jaireth)
"I -could- just come upon her, after one of the drills, and just check up on how she's faring with Snowstrike," B'yan suggests with one side of his mouth lifted sardonically. "Can't make the girl relax, but I can atleast tell her that Rhadruth's affections aren't in complete connection to hers. Not in my opinion, anyway," and with a scuff of his boots, he straightens up his posture.
Vrianth senses that Jaireth keeps with a silence of a cool desert, her question bringing a brief << No. >> from the stiff bronze on having a type. << 'Am me. >>
"That's the sort of general approach I was meaning, before," Leova agrees, not rising to his tone, though her mouth does turn up at one corner. "Any other advice? Also in general. Dare say it's no surprise that we want to get a chance at riding 'Fall. Before it goes away the rest of the way."
Of course he is. Vrianth sets a spark within the silence, a star within a cool desert night, as singular thanks for his troubling to reply. (Vrianth to Jaireth)
B'yan nods once about the general approach, agreeing. "Might help alittle. And well, not sure if you and her are friends and all, but, might do some good to take her aside, have a drink and just hang out. Help showing no hard feelings and all that." His booted foot slips to the ground and the wingleader shifts to the edge of the rock as if he were about to stand. To Leova's last, there's an odd look sent her way before he seeks out the calm of the pond surface. "Hope you never have to, in my opinion," he states as calmly with a sniff. "Not something you want to look forward to - 'less you have a death wish or something."
Leova's nod is slow. She could try. "Have to catch her first," she says dryly. "Maybe with a net." But then the greenrider straightens, though she doesn't move in any way to stand. Quiet, "No death wish. Just. It's what we trained and trained for. A job we were meant to do." And maybe the extent of their belief is a surprise to her as well, for a breath later she undercuts it. "'Sides. Got to get bragging rights on the next crop of weyrlings to come along."
"Even if," B'yan seems to correct, his legs stretching out before him with a singl shake of his head. "Been a good while since last Fall. Hoping the sky keeps up like this." Looking at said sky, he finally gets to his feet and shucks one hand into a jacket pocket. "Rode through it plenty enough," he drawls on the score before meeting her eyes. "Seen some riders get lost. Die. Got enough on my conscience to worry about losing a few more." Perhaps arrogance is what is accompanied with this statement. Perhaps it's somberness.
Leova lifts her brows at him: someday she may learn how to lift just one, but that's not likely to be today. And she doesn't shy away from his hazel stare. Instead, still encircled by that length of tail, she matches it. "Won't lose us, B'yan." And maybe that's arrogance of her own. Or Vrianth's.
Matching her, "Then you better hope that Fall's finally on the outs like the starsmiths have been saying," B'yan returns abruptly, his brows lifting for a few seconds before stepping away from the rock. With Jaireth suddenly springing to life, "Well. I better get on with those sweeps," he drawls, turning to look over his shoulder towards Leova. "Unless there was more we need to discuss?" The prompt is easy and curious, the slight pause subtle.
"Not saying I'm not hoping that too." And Leova shakes her head at him. "Not now. Thanks. Go on." And though Vrianth's eyes spark that much more vividly, just behind her, the green's rider murmurs something too fond to be a true reprimand, and nothing more's said at all. She's just smiling. And then they look back out. Over the lake.
Looking longer at her before he finally turns back towards his bronze, B'yan sends a jaunty pat on Jaireth's side as he fishes out the pair of gloves in his pocket. With a nod in farewell, "Well then. Clear skies, Leova," he states as he and the bronze head from the pond, one with their eyes on the sky and the other towards their destination.
VR: Day 11, month 5, Turn 16, of the Interval. It is a spring afternoon.
(Original log from B'yan)
Leova seeks out wingsecond K'del and gets B'yan instead.
Fishing Pond, High Reaches Weyr
The ice seems to have given up on this little finger of the Weyr lake, and the darting forms of fish are visible every once in awhile in the clear, cold waters. The rest of the lake spreads out to the east, separated from this pond by a natural land bridge, but this section feels rather solitary and quiet. The forms of underwater rocks are just visible, adding greens and blues to the rosy water. The Weyr mountain walls loom above in the fresh spring air.
After a hard-flown drill, made all the better for the cool air of spring, it's easy for wingmates to stop and chatter before dispersing along their separate ways. Some of them, at least: three of whom include two of the newest riders in the wing, W'jar and Leova, talking with K'del in low, focused tones. But while Marckilth's settled and near-napping, Vrianth is prowling among the larger dragons with her wings not yet entirely furled, still riding that energy high.
With drills ending, B'yan is quick to dismiss the wingriders and always attempts a hasty getaway. Casting a quick glance about the bowl, as he heads toward the lake, he spots his wingsecond amongst the two riders and is slow to approach. gloves being pulled off one by one, the wingleader ticks a nod towards both W'jar and Leova before murmuring a few low words to K'del.
W'jar's happy to get out from under his wingleader's eye: Leova, not so much, and she returns the nod. And stays where she is, waiting on the senior riders with a not-too-subtly expectant air.
K'del, pausing mid-sentence to Leova and W'jar, turns his head to B'yan's message and exchanges a quick answer. "Let's chat in the Snowasis later," he offers briefly to them before taking his leave, B'yan regarding them rather than his wingsecond as he greets, "Afternoon," and with a subtle raise of his brow to Leova's not so subtle air.
Leova's demeanor shifts as first W'jar and then their wingsecond depart, and she's left with the wingleader instead. But she sets her shoulders: he'll have to do. "A minute?" she asks, reaching up into the air that, moments later, becomes smooth olive-green hide.
"A few," B'yan returns, turning to gesture towards the flat rocks by the lake since W'jar and K'del depart. Following the gesture up by approaching the rocks, "I have some time before I join K'del and them on their sweeps." He settles down on one and sets about straighening his riding jacket and casting a brief glance towards Vrianth.
"Hunting went all right earlier," Leova offers as she follows suit, tracked by Vrianth who pads after her, ignoring the man in favor of her rider and any other dragons who might remain. "Got them back for the butchering without bleeding over anyone who cared. But. Was going to ask," K'del, "About Fraya. Whether it matters, wing-wise, though actually, don't know if you noticed."
"What should I notice?" B'yan picks up the last rather than the beginning easily, though an easy nod of acknowledgement is given to the former. "Been noticing more about how the wing performs together than anything in specific. It was good to see C'hon keeping up better in the formations practice." Looking back at her now, "So. What about Fraya?" he asks.
Leova's turn to nod, for C'hon this time. "Might not matter then, if it doesn't show in the wing," she speculates, leaning a knee on her chosen rock rather than sitting immediately. "If we have settled in enough that it wouldn't have been confused with inexperience. Her avoiding me. Us."
B'yan says "I trust I'daur's teaching," B'yan says briskly, his head tilting slightly to look up at her. "You and Fraya and the rest of you fit in well. I didn't expect trouble. But," and now he leans alittle forward, his voice dropping from something more serious and alittle less easy, "I think you're asking for something other than a progress report. Fraya's avoiding you? In what way? Why?""
All at once Leova's mouth curves up, that assessment of his, but then as her wingleader goes on, she slides slowly downward, one hand flattening on the rock as she sits. And her mouth flattens too. "It's awkward," she admits, and looks away from his gaze then. To the lake, slowly, "Rhadruth's got a thing for /her/. My Vrianth. She says she'll fix it, don't know what she means by that. Or when."
"Rhadruth's got--" B'yan begins to say before breaking off, his hazel eyes seeking out the green bulk of Vrianth and then looking back at her rider. "I see," he drawls, slowly now. "Awkward. She thinks her dragon having it in for yours means that she has to be for her rider, too?"
Leova gives him a sidelong look. Vrianth doesn't. Vrianth's settled just past them, still as a statue, and never mind the elegant tail that's snaked around the rock upon which Leova sits. Purely coincidental. "Like to think she knows better than that. Don't want to get her into trouble either, all right? Just want to understand. And have it not get in the way. She talked about /love letters/," exasperation low in her voice. "Wooing me. Tell me this isn't common."
Blinking once, the confusion touching his features, "She's...not getting in trouble," B'yan states slowly, watching Leova's face closely. "And really, this kind of thing shouldn't affect how things are run in the wing. If Fraya's having trouble with her dragon, or she thinks this kind of thing -will- cause something that might affect the wing...." he trails that off, the unspoken answer of him seeking her out being felt in the air. "If she isn't actually sending you love letters, however," and a shrug comes easily, along with a lopsided grin, "then I think you have nothing to worry about. Wouldn't exactly call it -too- common, but, dragons are always bound to like whomever they please." Snorting with a one quick cast towards his bronze, "Jaireth used to have a thing for Shidreth, and he well knows that I couldn't stand her rider. Wasn't about to send any love letters, either."
with the weight of his eyes on her, Leova stays still, and listens. Hair short as that can't hide her expressions from him: the touch of relief that appears first, the later the hint of a smile that nearly reaches her eyes. "Think they were supposed to be from him, actually. The letters. Can't see Jaireth telling you to write down stuff for him that way, no matter how... fond. How'd he get over it?" That past tense. It takes her longer to mull over the rest. Finally, "Think she'd like her wingleader seeing how she was doing. In general. If you see what I mean."
Jaireth senses that Vrianth, unlike her rider, is not above envisioning his with stylus in hand, Jaireth all sprawled out and dictating what the man should write. Only instead of the other version which Vrianth is ignoring, Jaireth's has sketches of wherries on the run, some arrows, a knife or two. And claws. Plenty of claws.
"Jaireth wouldn't dare," B'yan states wryly, nodding with his chin towards both dragons. "They can talk to each other anyway without needing us mere riders intervene, so I really could care less who Jaireth has the hots for." He shrugs at the question, eyes going towards the pond as he answers with "Dunno. He just does. One moment he's for Shidreth, and the next he's moved on. Not exactly a long term type of one, but I suppose he gets it honest. But anyway," and now regarding the greenrider, "it's not anything to worry about, Leova. Might have to check on Fraya too, let her know that. Don't need to avoid someone over something like this."
Vrianth senses that Jaireth sends his initial silence, heavy and blank as he settles by the pond. The vision is blanketed for a moment before blowed upon, slowly being distorted out of existence. << Ain' the type, >> is all he sends instead of any image in return, his manner abrupt.
"Fair enough." And that's just the sort of casualness that makes it easier for Leova to begin to relax, hand sliding back enough that her fingers can curl around the edge of the stone instead of staying flat. "S'what I said to her, but. Could be different, coming from you. Don't suppose there's any way of not having it come across like I tattled?"
That silence is nearly enough to flatten the image to begin with, but then he dismantles it the rest of the way. << No. You are not. >> That from Vrianth, cool and curious instead of challenging such destruction; there isn't flirtation in it, no more sensual than she was when she reveled in oil, new-hatched. << Are you any type at all, Jaireth? >> (Vrianth to Jaireth)
"I -could- just come upon her, after one of the drills, and just check up on how she's faring with Snowstrike," B'yan suggests with one side of his mouth lifted sardonically. "Can't make the girl relax, but I can atleast tell her that Rhadruth's affections aren't in complete connection to hers. Not in my opinion, anyway," and with a scuff of his boots, he straightens up his posture.
Vrianth senses that Jaireth keeps with a silence of a cool desert, her question bringing a brief << No. >> from the stiff bronze on having a type. << 'Am me. >>
"That's the sort of general approach I was meaning, before," Leova agrees, not rising to his tone, though her mouth does turn up at one corner. "Any other advice? Also in general. Dare say it's no surprise that we want to get a chance at riding 'Fall. Before it goes away the rest of the way."
Of course he is. Vrianth sets a spark within the silence, a star within a cool desert night, as singular thanks for his troubling to reply. (Vrianth to Jaireth)
B'yan nods once about the general approach, agreeing. "Might help alittle. And well, not sure if you and her are friends and all, but, might do some good to take her aside, have a drink and just hang out. Help showing no hard feelings and all that." His booted foot slips to the ground and the wingleader shifts to the edge of the rock as if he were about to stand. To Leova's last, there's an odd look sent her way before he seeks out the calm of the pond surface. "Hope you never have to, in my opinion," he states as calmly with a sniff. "Not something you want to look forward to - 'less you have a death wish or something."
Leova's nod is slow. She could try. "Have to catch her first," she says dryly. "Maybe with a net." But then the greenrider straightens, though she doesn't move in any way to stand. Quiet, "No death wish. Just. It's what we trained and trained for. A job we were meant to do." And maybe the extent of their belief is a surprise to her as well, for a breath later she undercuts it. "'Sides. Got to get bragging rights on the next crop of weyrlings to come along."
"Even if," B'yan seems to correct, his legs stretching out before him with a singl shake of his head. "Been a good while since last Fall. Hoping the sky keeps up like this." Looking at said sky, he finally gets to his feet and shucks one hand into a jacket pocket. "Rode through it plenty enough," he drawls on the score before meeting her eyes. "Seen some riders get lost. Die. Got enough on my conscience to worry about losing a few more." Perhaps arrogance is what is accompanied with this statement. Perhaps it's somberness.
Leova lifts her brows at him: someday she may learn how to lift just one, but that's not likely to be today. And she doesn't shy away from his hazel stare. Instead, still encircled by that length of tail, she matches it. "Won't lose us, B'yan." And maybe that's arrogance of her own. Or Vrianth's.
Matching her, "Then you better hope that Fall's finally on the outs like the starsmiths have been saying," B'yan returns abruptly, his brows lifting for a few seconds before stepping away from the rock. With Jaireth suddenly springing to life, "Well. I better get on with those sweeps," he drawls, turning to look over his shoulder towards Leova. "Unless there was more we need to discuss?" The prompt is easy and curious, the slight pause subtle.
"Not saying I'm not hoping that too." And Leova shakes her head at him. "Not now. Thanks. Go on." And though Vrianth's eyes spark that much more vividly, just behind her, the green's rider murmurs something too fond to be a true reprimand, and nothing more's said at all. She's just smiling. And then they look back out. Over the lake.
Looking longer at her before he finally turns back towards his bronze, B'yan sends a jaunty pat on Jaireth's side as he fishes out the pair of gloves in his pocket. With a nod in farewell, "Well then. Clear skies, Leova," he states as he and the bronze head from the pond, one with their eyes on the sky and the other towards their destination.