Log: Lead-ing Questions
RL: May 27, 2008.
VR: Day 11, month 7, Turn 16, of the Interval. It is a summer evening.
X'lar's going to be graduating soon, and he and Leova talk about what's coming up next: wings.
Diving Cliff, High Reaches Weyr
Soft, resolute, and dreamlike, the day's ending sunlight provides for an eerie gaze across the Weyr, not to the worn, stone steps that disappear into this flat area resting high above the waters below. Huddled families of rocks, boulders and pebbles lay strewn around the edges of the clifftop. The sandy center of the half-plateau seems to have been cleared of any debris and the area provides enough room, sitting or standing, for many people. A small journey to the edge of the precipice reveals the true use of this place. The deep, midnight-blue waters of the lake shimmer below in the dimming light, and the shorn patch of rock near the edge proves that many a person has felt the thrill of a swift flight from this clifftop, only to be enveloped by the chilly waters of the Weyr lake.
Three plates stacked with a bunch of bones on top. Three mugs. A dirty snowfall of napkins. And one greenrider prone on the oversized blanket, chin on crossed arms and bare feet in the air, occasionally lifting her head to hoot and holler at friends splashing down below but mostly just taking it easy. Vrianth? Nowhere to be seen.
X'lar follows that uphill rock-strewn path toward the diving cliff. Steps are hesitant from the weyrling, venturing out into virgin territory, perhaps. Soon, however, as he ascends, reaching that cliff, he stops. Not yet seeing any greenrider with the remnants of food and drink. Instead, his eyes are more on the sky, an easy smile in place at the view. Then, soon, lowering eyes, spotting her. A couple more steps forward, less hesitant now. "Evening," X'lar offers quietly, not wishing to disturb perhaps. A hand lifts to salute and drops down again.
The greenrider glances over. "Some sunset, hm?" with a westward lift of her chin. Her eyes return to linger idly on the weyrling, then: what's different, what's the same, as much as the fading light allows.
"Some sunset," the weyrling repeats in agreement, smiling briefly as he looks out at the view again. "Some weyr," he adds. He doesn't seem shy in whatever looks are given to him. In fact, he might do the same. Confident, but not overly so. "Close to graduating now," he offers. There's nothing hinting in the phrase, just a mere fact.
"Taller. Unless," Leova speculates, easing up on one elbow, head now propped on her hand, "That's just the angle. So. Have a wing in mind? Or did you come up here to dive into the lake, boots and all?"
X'lar moves to sit down next to the greenrider. "Not just the angle," he offers. "Grew up." The phrase turns. A pause at the questions following, looking back to the water below before turning to face the greenrider. "I think I'd wait for the dive," he tells her, a smile flickering into existence. "Not my mentor's," he says. "Need to be on my own two feet. Especially if I want to be meetin' my goals."
"Did you, now," says Leova, who sits up too if he's going to do that, tucking her legs tailor-fashion, resting her elbows on her knees. A sidelong look, "Glad you're not on your two feet now. Don't have to look up your nose to talk, hm? Don't know your mentor. Or your goals, come to that."
"Caitlyn," he tells her. "There once was a woman on the beach who tried to smoothe things over when an ignorant candidate seemed to speak badly of others." A dry chuckle as he hears her next remark, nodding, adding: "True, that. No one should ever have that view." A pause and he looks to the sunset briefly, smiling again. "To lead," X'lar comments in quiet resolve.
"Caitlyn," she repeats, consonants extra-crisp for just that one moment. And then, just the corner of her mouth tucking up, that near-smile not quite making it into her pleasant voice, "Lead. How? And why."
"Funny how things are, how they happen," X'lar tells her while looking back to the sunset. "The truth burps, hm?" The weyrling takes a deep breath, inhaling that Reaches air. "Want to work my way up like everyone else who discovers that they thrive on responsibility." A cluck of his tongue against the roof of his mouth, a gesture of possible surprise. "From fearing it to thriving on it."
Leova somehow restrains herself from adding more sound effects than a chuckle as she listens, looking at him. And one long moment later, "Working your way up, that's good and all. But what I don't get is why you think you know more than they do, or will. For starters. Want to explain?"
"Who said I did?" X'lar asks, turning to look at the greenrider again, curious. "Not saying anything of the like, am I?" The weyrling looks back to the sunset once more, smiling briefly, at what exactly is unknown. "That's why they are called goals, yeah? Something to work toward. Formations, drills, they all work toward something. A better understanding." Another pause, looking up higher at the sky before leveling his gaze again, still the sunset. "True though, working hard can only get you so far. Both the easiest and hardest thing to do would be to become Weyrleader." A glance toward Leova now at the last.
"Pretty well implied," Leova says dryly. By her calm tone as she continues, they could just as well be going over formations, though not in the way B'ren and F'der sometimes do. "Whoever's leading, they're making the decisions. Not that they can't or don't consult their wingriders, but in the end, it's up to them. Maybe I should ask, what makes you think your gut's going to be better than theirs?" Her slight nod acknowledges she's heard his comment about Weyrleader, though she still leaves it be for now.
X'lar looks from the sunset to Leova again, watching her as he listens to the greenrider. "Mine's bigger," he tells her, just as dry.
Leova'll give him a laugh for that. "Good on you. Still haven't convinced me, though."
X'lar replies to the laugh with a brief grin. One gesture traded for another. "Malsaeth and I, we work closely, but separate too. He has his own ways, while I have mine. We're more like our mentors in that way." A pause and X'lar's face turns so that he can watch the sunset, soaking it in quietly. Thoughtful. "I'm but a weyrling, soon to be graduated. It's not like I'm expecting a wingleader or 'second's knot this soon. I know my wits need sharpening, my head fuller of knowledge. But when you're me, in my shoes, it doesn't hurt to be a perfectionist, continue working, honing."
"Mm." Leova keeps listening, waiting out everything he's got to say. Now and again her glance flicks out to the sky, over the edge, but she's always looking back. "Thing is, though. Trying to get better? Trying to get things really right? Don't figure that necessarily has to do with /leading/."
"Got to make an impression before you can lead by example," he replies back to her. "Tell me your thoughts then, hm?" X'lar seems surprised at something, but dissembles well, the surprise fluidly changing into curiousity, quick, quick enough, maybe, not to even be seen.
"So, it helps for people to think you know what you're doing. Got that. Seems like just part of being competent at your job, to me. Leading or not leading." Leova pauses. "You twitched."
"I did," X'lar replies back to her last comment. And then he's onto that former remark of the greenrider's. "True, that. Being competent is important. Some people work harder to be competent while some worker harder to surpass that and become even better for it. It's got nothing to do with leading, but personal achievement. Just depends on the view of the person."
Leova lifts a shoulder. Lets it go. And she can, because then she's leaning forward with a hint of a smile, "You just made part of /my/ point."
"That being?" X'lar asks her, curious. The weyrling looks from the sunset again to the greenrider's smile, or the hint of which that is there, at least.
"That they aren't connected so close as that. Leadership. Competence. And," it takes her a moment to find the word, but then Leova goes on without stopping. "Prowess, for that matter. You say you want to do your job well, X'lar? Really well? More power to you. I'm all for that. But saying you want to lead, that comes out like saying, you want to /tell people what to do/. You want to get real good at what you do, be the sort of man people can count on to do the right thing? Say that instead."
"The choice of words are the key then," X'lar tells her, growing thoughtful as he absorbs every word of the greenrider. "The choice of perspective in what you actually -want-." Another beat as the weyrling studies the woman, quiet. Soon, however, he finally nods to her, saying, "Then I suppose I'm going to be that sort of man. Hope to become." There's another pause there, brief, noticable. And then his eyes are drawn back to the sunset. "Thanks for the clarification," he finally adds, a smile appears to, however brief.
"Matching words up to where you're really coming from, where you really want to go, I figure. People can talk the talk, don't mean they can walk it." Leova gives him a long look, and silence with it, and there's the setting sun reddening his face but she's got more words for him anyway. A lot of words. "See, don't know how it is at Ista. But here there's this wingleader, B'ren. Hailstorm. /Not/ a wing for riders fresh out of the barracks. They're... really, amazingly good at what they do. Fall. Lot of strong opinions. Each rider's top-notch, B'ren only takes the best. And he's real good himself, but don't know that he'd necessarily beat one of his wingriders one on one. What /he's/ got is the skill of helping them work together, see. So they actually pull together. Don't make him a better man, or them worse, but it does make him a better man for /that/ job. Get that?"
"Got it," X'lar replies simply, as if shifting the balance in the conversation where he's the least verbose and she more so. As simply as he might speak, it's an honest answer from the weyrling. "That your goal?" he soon asks her. "To be in that wing?" Another look is given to the setting sun and then back to Leova, curious of her next response, whether it be as wordy as before or less so.
"X'lar. No more Fall, remember?" And Leova's reaching for a tone that isn't flat and nearly making it. "Getting there, anyway. Don't know what they'll be like, once it's for sure Interval again. Easy for some to... lose heart. And even if we still had Fall every seven? Don't necessarily mean it needs /us/ there. But if it did, that's where we'd be." Her look's more sidelong now, thoughtful. "Though I should have asked before. Think Ista's got a hole in it somewhere? Leaders missing something you think should be different?"
"I knew as much. No fall," X'lar tells her agreeably. "Just means you got to stay strong, remember the skills so they can be passed on to the next generation, and the generation after that... Like so, yeah?" Another pause, he replies, "It doesn't mean you just quit hoping, lose sight of goals. You just figure out what you're good at and you work with what you've got. Shows why a more well rounded skill-set is important. Can't rely on fighting techniques when fighting techniques aren't needed." Another pause. Sunset's not been watched for a while now, his attention on the greenrider. "There's always room for what I have to offer. Whether or not, I find it sooner or later is up to my eyes, my competency." The phrase turns itself. "How easy or hard was it for you to fill a hole here?"
Leova shakes her head abruptly. "Not the same. Teaching's important. Real important. But when it's just drills? They can't be the same as really being out there. Another wing maybe. But not them." And from there what she says is, "Part of the wing. B'yan knows what he's doing. There being room for what someone has to offer, though. That's not the same as a hole. And if a wing's being run well, still think you need to become the one with your hands on the reins?"
"No," X'lar tells her simply, yet again using less words for once. But soon he's back to speaking with more. "It's not like I want to be that person just for the sake of -being- that person. If there's a hole that I can fill, I'll fill it. If it's being run well, it's not like I'm going to step in and say 'I'll take it from here, ma'am or sir." A wrinkle of the nose and the weyrling's continuing, "That seems counter-productive to me by taking the reins of an already competent person. It's a shake up for the sheer effect of a shake up, no one wants that. I may have my ambitions, but I'm not going to upset the balance when I don't have to, Leova."
"All right, then." And Leova studies him one last moment, make that, one last comment. "So there you go. Live it. And don't take the shortcut that just gets people's backs up, hm? In the meantime," now she's standing up, getting the dishes, giving the blanket a tug so he knows she'll have to run off with that too, "Best get these back before it gets dark enough to trip and break them all."
X'lar studies Leova for one last moment, the sunset long forgotten now. A pause at the tugging of the blanket, standing up and away from it to allow the greenrider the freedom of taking it. "Can I help with the dishes?" he asks first. Then another question: "Do I get your back up?"
"I'll handle it. But thanks." Leova does, too: blanket shaken out and folded enough to wrap and knot around her, two corners knotted further into an impromptu bag for the less breakable items. A sideways smile, "And it's a good question. But let's not make it about me. Night, X'lar," and the greenrider heads decisively for the path.
VR: Day 11, month 7, Turn 16, of the Interval. It is a summer evening.
X'lar's going to be graduating soon, and he and Leova talk about what's coming up next: wings.
Diving Cliff, High Reaches Weyr
Soft, resolute, and dreamlike, the day's ending sunlight provides for an eerie gaze across the Weyr, not to the worn, stone steps that disappear into this flat area resting high above the waters below. Huddled families of rocks, boulders and pebbles lay strewn around the edges of the clifftop. The sandy center of the half-plateau seems to have been cleared of any debris and the area provides enough room, sitting or standing, for many people. A small journey to the edge of the precipice reveals the true use of this place. The deep, midnight-blue waters of the lake shimmer below in the dimming light, and the shorn patch of rock near the edge proves that many a person has felt the thrill of a swift flight from this clifftop, only to be enveloped by the chilly waters of the Weyr lake.
Three plates stacked with a bunch of bones on top. Three mugs. A dirty snowfall of napkins. And one greenrider prone on the oversized blanket, chin on crossed arms and bare feet in the air, occasionally lifting her head to hoot and holler at friends splashing down below but mostly just taking it easy. Vrianth? Nowhere to be seen.
X'lar follows that uphill rock-strewn path toward the diving cliff. Steps are hesitant from the weyrling, venturing out into virgin territory, perhaps. Soon, however, as he ascends, reaching that cliff, he stops. Not yet seeing any greenrider with the remnants of food and drink. Instead, his eyes are more on the sky, an easy smile in place at the view. Then, soon, lowering eyes, spotting her. A couple more steps forward, less hesitant now. "Evening," X'lar offers quietly, not wishing to disturb perhaps. A hand lifts to salute and drops down again.
The greenrider glances over. "Some sunset, hm?" with a westward lift of her chin. Her eyes return to linger idly on the weyrling, then: what's different, what's the same, as much as the fading light allows.
"Some sunset," the weyrling repeats in agreement, smiling briefly as he looks out at the view again. "Some weyr," he adds. He doesn't seem shy in whatever looks are given to him. In fact, he might do the same. Confident, but not overly so. "Close to graduating now," he offers. There's nothing hinting in the phrase, just a mere fact.
"Taller. Unless," Leova speculates, easing up on one elbow, head now propped on her hand, "That's just the angle. So. Have a wing in mind? Or did you come up here to dive into the lake, boots and all?"
X'lar moves to sit down next to the greenrider. "Not just the angle," he offers. "Grew up." The phrase turns. A pause at the questions following, looking back to the water below before turning to face the greenrider. "I think I'd wait for the dive," he tells her, a smile flickering into existence. "Not my mentor's," he says. "Need to be on my own two feet. Especially if I want to be meetin' my goals."
"Did you, now," says Leova, who sits up too if he's going to do that, tucking her legs tailor-fashion, resting her elbows on her knees. A sidelong look, "Glad you're not on your two feet now. Don't have to look up your nose to talk, hm? Don't know your mentor. Or your goals, come to that."
"Caitlyn," he tells her. "There once was a woman on the beach who tried to smoothe things over when an ignorant candidate seemed to speak badly of others." A dry chuckle as he hears her next remark, nodding, adding: "True, that. No one should ever have that view." A pause and he looks to the sunset briefly, smiling again. "To lead," X'lar comments in quiet resolve.
"Caitlyn," she repeats, consonants extra-crisp for just that one moment. And then, just the corner of her mouth tucking up, that near-smile not quite making it into her pleasant voice, "Lead. How? And why."
"Funny how things are, how they happen," X'lar tells her while looking back to the sunset. "The truth burps, hm?" The weyrling takes a deep breath, inhaling that Reaches air. "Want to work my way up like everyone else who discovers that they thrive on responsibility." A cluck of his tongue against the roof of his mouth, a gesture of possible surprise. "From fearing it to thriving on it."
Leova somehow restrains herself from adding more sound effects than a chuckle as she listens, looking at him. And one long moment later, "Working your way up, that's good and all. But what I don't get is why you think you know more than they do, or will. For starters. Want to explain?"
"Who said I did?" X'lar asks, turning to look at the greenrider again, curious. "Not saying anything of the like, am I?" The weyrling looks back to the sunset once more, smiling briefly, at what exactly is unknown. "That's why they are called goals, yeah? Something to work toward. Formations, drills, they all work toward something. A better understanding." Another pause, looking up higher at the sky before leveling his gaze again, still the sunset. "True though, working hard can only get you so far. Both the easiest and hardest thing to do would be to become Weyrleader." A glance toward Leova now at the last.
"Pretty well implied," Leova says dryly. By her calm tone as she continues, they could just as well be going over formations, though not in the way B'ren and F'der sometimes do. "Whoever's leading, they're making the decisions. Not that they can't or don't consult their wingriders, but in the end, it's up to them. Maybe I should ask, what makes you think your gut's going to be better than theirs?" Her slight nod acknowledges she's heard his comment about Weyrleader, though she still leaves it be for now.
X'lar looks from the sunset to Leova again, watching her as he listens to the greenrider. "Mine's bigger," he tells her, just as dry.
Leova'll give him a laugh for that. "Good on you. Still haven't convinced me, though."
X'lar replies to the laugh with a brief grin. One gesture traded for another. "Malsaeth and I, we work closely, but separate too. He has his own ways, while I have mine. We're more like our mentors in that way." A pause and X'lar's face turns so that he can watch the sunset, soaking it in quietly. Thoughtful. "I'm but a weyrling, soon to be graduated. It's not like I'm expecting a wingleader or 'second's knot this soon. I know my wits need sharpening, my head fuller of knowledge. But when you're me, in my shoes, it doesn't hurt to be a perfectionist, continue working, honing."
"Mm." Leova keeps listening, waiting out everything he's got to say. Now and again her glance flicks out to the sky, over the edge, but she's always looking back. "Thing is, though. Trying to get better? Trying to get things really right? Don't figure that necessarily has to do with /leading/."
"Got to make an impression before you can lead by example," he replies back to her. "Tell me your thoughts then, hm?" X'lar seems surprised at something, but dissembles well, the surprise fluidly changing into curiousity, quick, quick enough, maybe, not to even be seen.
"So, it helps for people to think you know what you're doing. Got that. Seems like just part of being competent at your job, to me. Leading or not leading." Leova pauses. "You twitched."
"I did," X'lar replies back to her last comment. And then he's onto that former remark of the greenrider's. "True, that. Being competent is important. Some people work harder to be competent while some worker harder to surpass that and become even better for it. It's got nothing to do with leading, but personal achievement. Just depends on the view of the person."
Leova lifts a shoulder. Lets it go. And she can, because then she's leaning forward with a hint of a smile, "You just made part of /my/ point."
"That being?" X'lar asks her, curious. The weyrling looks from the sunset again to the greenrider's smile, or the hint of which that is there, at least.
"That they aren't connected so close as that. Leadership. Competence. And," it takes her a moment to find the word, but then Leova goes on without stopping. "Prowess, for that matter. You say you want to do your job well, X'lar? Really well? More power to you. I'm all for that. But saying you want to lead, that comes out like saying, you want to /tell people what to do/. You want to get real good at what you do, be the sort of man people can count on to do the right thing? Say that instead."
"The choice of words are the key then," X'lar tells her, growing thoughtful as he absorbs every word of the greenrider. "The choice of perspective in what you actually -want-." Another beat as the weyrling studies the woman, quiet. Soon, however, he finally nods to her, saying, "Then I suppose I'm going to be that sort of man. Hope to become." There's another pause there, brief, noticable. And then his eyes are drawn back to the sunset. "Thanks for the clarification," he finally adds, a smile appears to, however brief.
"Matching words up to where you're really coming from, where you really want to go, I figure. People can talk the talk, don't mean they can walk it." Leova gives him a long look, and silence with it, and there's the setting sun reddening his face but she's got more words for him anyway. A lot of words. "See, don't know how it is at Ista. But here there's this wingleader, B'ren. Hailstorm. /Not/ a wing for riders fresh out of the barracks. They're... really, amazingly good at what they do. Fall. Lot of strong opinions. Each rider's top-notch, B'ren only takes the best. And he's real good himself, but don't know that he'd necessarily beat one of his wingriders one on one. What /he's/ got is the skill of helping them work together, see. So they actually pull together. Don't make him a better man, or them worse, but it does make him a better man for /that/ job. Get that?"
"Got it," X'lar replies simply, as if shifting the balance in the conversation where he's the least verbose and she more so. As simply as he might speak, it's an honest answer from the weyrling. "That your goal?" he soon asks her. "To be in that wing?" Another look is given to the setting sun and then back to Leova, curious of her next response, whether it be as wordy as before or less so.
"X'lar. No more Fall, remember?" And Leova's reaching for a tone that isn't flat and nearly making it. "Getting there, anyway. Don't know what they'll be like, once it's for sure Interval again. Easy for some to... lose heart. And even if we still had Fall every seven? Don't necessarily mean it needs /us/ there. But if it did, that's where we'd be." Her look's more sidelong now, thoughtful. "Though I should have asked before. Think Ista's got a hole in it somewhere? Leaders missing something you think should be different?"
"I knew as much. No fall," X'lar tells her agreeably. "Just means you got to stay strong, remember the skills so they can be passed on to the next generation, and the generation after that... Like so, yeah?" Another pause, he replies, "It doesn't mean you just quit hoping, lose sight of goals. You just figure out what you're good at and you work with what you've got. Shows why a more well rounded skill-set is important. Can't rely on fighting techniques when fighting techniques aren't needed." Another pause. Sunset's not been watched for a while now, his attention on the greenrider. "There's always room for what I have to offer. Whether or not, I find it sooner or later is up to my eyes, my competency." The phrase turns itself. "How easy or hard was it for you to fill a hole here?"
Leova shakes her head abruptly. "Not the same. Teaching's important. Real important. But when it's just drills? They can't be the same as really being out there. Another wing maybe. But not them." And from there what she says is, "Part of the wing. B'yan knows what he's doing. There being room for what someone has to offer, though. That's not the same as a hole. And if a wing's being run well, still think you need to become the one with your hands on the reins?"
"No," X'lar tells her simply, yet again using less words for once. But soon he's back to speaking with more. "It's not like I want to be that person just for the sake of -being- that person. If there's a hole that I can fill, I'll fill it. If it's being run well, it's not like I'm going to step in and say 'I'll take it from here, ma'am or sir." A wrinkle of the nose and the weyrling's continuing, "That seems counter-productive to me by taking the reins of an already competent person. It's a shake up for the sheer effect of a shake up, no one wants that. I may have my ambitions, but I'm not going to upset the balance when I don't have to, Leova."
"All right, then." And Leova studies him one last moment, make that, one last comment. "So there you go. Live it. And don't take the shortcut that just gets people's backs up, hm? In the meantime," now she's standing up, getting the dishes, giving the blanket a tug so he knows she'll have to run off with that too, "Best get these back before it gets dark enough to trip and break them all."
X'lar studies Leova for one last moment, the sunset long forgotten now. A pause at the tugging of the blanket, standing up and away from it to allow the greenrider the freedom of taking it. "Can I help with the dishes?" he asks first. Then another question: "Do I get your back up?"
"I'll handle it. But thanks." Leova does, too: blanket shaken out and folded enough to wrap and knot around her, two corners knotted further into an impromptu bag for the less breakable items. A sideways smile, "And it's a good question. But let's not make it about me. Night, X'lar," and the greenrider heads decisively for the path.