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A'son goes to have a little talk with Z'yi after the incident in the living cavern. They don't see eye to eye.
Logfile from A'son.
Weyrling Training Cavern, High Reaches Weyr(#392RJLs)
All the furniture here has been pushed to one side of the room to allow a large pathway opposite: room enough to let weyrling dragons pass from the bowl's archway to the cavernous barracks at the back. None of the furniture matches, either: it varies from big cushioned, claw-footed chairs to those of plain wood, while the most seating is at the two stone tables ringed by low and equally hard stone benches. Without the tapestries that decorate many of the Weyr's other interior spaces, the room always echoes with noise, no matter how few are there.
What it does have, however, are several colorful murals: on one wall, a detailed diagram of a dragon's anatomy; opposite, next to a creaky wooden door, a number of painted and labeled wing formations. Near the entrance is a large-scale version of the Weyr's badge, while the back wall, by the barracks, features a detailed map of the continent. The latter area's also home to one big, beat-up couch, black or maybe blue -- the thing's so old and filthy it's hard to tell, though it's certainly comfortable.
Coming in from the bowl, A'son pulls his cap off. He smacks the the snow off of it before walking over to one of the stone tables, throwing it on top. His jacket gets the same treatment before he drops down onto the uncomfortable bench. Wherever Z'yi is, he gets one long look and the bronzerider holds his hands out to him in a 'Why? Why?' fashion before they're folded behind his head.
"Sir," Z'yi starts, his hands coming up in a muted, defensive gesture. "It's not my fault." Yeah. Bet Ace has heard *that* one before, Isz. Eventually, he strips off his outermost jacket to sit in his long-sleeved shirt across from A'son. "All I did was ask him why he hated me and would never talk to me."
"Okay, lets replay this situation to see where it all went tragically wrong." A'son begins, pulling himself tiredly to his feet. "When I came in, you were standing up like this," Here he begins his impersonation of him, in a greatly overdramatic fashion. Making a scary face, squaring his shoulders, trying to look imposing, "What is your deal? Act like you like me! I'm really fucking scary because I'm much bigger than you! And now I'm standing up to prove it!" Obviously this isn't an exact re-enactment. Now he shifts his shoulders and scrunches down a little. "No, no, that's not it! I'm B'tal and I'm sensitive, I'm also starting to cry because you're clearly hurting my feelings and making me upset!" He looks at the weyrling to see if he's getting the point yet. "Then of course /you/ continue like that until he's very upset and you called him /weird/. And stared at him like he was a freak when he told you the truth. It's absolutely your fault."
Z'yi doesn't bridle or bristle at A'son, though the impulse is there. Instead, he just sits, and listens, and takes it with a bowed head. "Yes, sir," he states, his tone quiet, subdued. "I-- I didn't realize." His big hands clench into fists and open wide, several times in a row, and eventually stop with fingers splayed out wide on the table. "I just..." here, his deep bass rumble breaks off rather lamely, "I just wanted to know what his deal was." And now he does.
"So you're... not a little kid." A'son starts off as he now drops back down onto the bench, sitting across from him. "B'tal on the other hand is like twelve? Or something? He's young, young enough to get really caught up and emotional and silly." He pokes the surface of the table between them, "You're not getting punished up. I'm not sending you on latrine duty or any sort of weird crap like that. But you have to go find him tomorrow or the next day, after he's had time to calm down. You need to let him know that you don't think he's silly and stupid. That the situation wasn't his fault and you misunderstood." Then he's pointing at him. "Man up."
Z'yi clenches his jaw and nods his head, once. "Yes, sir. I will, sir." In all probability, Z'yi will berate himself far worse than A'son is, currently; well, now that Isz has actually stated that yes, it is his fault. Or agreed to said statement. Z'yi squints up to A'son, after a moment or two of thoughtful silence. He looks-- well, humorless. Sorta like a drunk who kicked a puppy (back to the cocker spaniel analogy!) who just sobered up and realized it. "I'm sorry for wasting your dinner hour, sir."
"I'm going to kill you if you don't stop calling me sir every other word." A'son states rather suddenly. He drops his elbows onto the table, using his hands to cradle his head. For the squinting look and apology he lamely shakes his head back and forth. "Whatever, it's just part of the job I guess. I think I made the wrong career move. I should be out painting walls or something. Not in here." He comments, glancing around at the walls of the cavern. "Do you like this kid back? Or is this one of those 'You love me, But I'd rather you not because we're just friends' things?"
Big shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. "Honestly, A'son?" Just like that, no 'sir'! Z'yi can follow rules, so to speak, "Hell if I know. I don't have time for that right now. Isforaith is taking up all of my time, and we're coming up on our stint as wingleaders. I can't afford to be distracted by anything-- like that. Raith's too young, anyhow." All very rational answers, but everything prefaced by that 'hell if I know' may sound like an obvious avoiding-the-question move.
A'son's eyebrows raise and he taps his index finger against his face, "Honestly, Z'yi?" He starts, leaning forward. "I think you need to learn how to manage your personal life. Because if you do know and you're just lying? You're just stuffing whatever it is down into the tips of your boots? You're going to feel like shit eventually and it's all going to bubble over and be a crapfest. That's what part of being a man and not being a child is about." There's a derisive smile and he pushes back, shaking his head. "Not avoiding things just because you don't like them."
Z'yi's eyes are suddenly hard, and he raises his head to gaze evenly at A'son. "Honestly, sir," he states, his tone level, "I believe my first responsibility is to my /lifemate/. And if addressing something endangers his mental state, I would think that /that/ something can be avoided until he is of an age that he /can/ handle it. Responsibility is what being a man is all about. And if I can't be responsible for my own fardling lifemate, what does that say about /me/?" He restrains a scowl, barely, and pushes himself back in his seat, an eyebrow cocked. It was apparently a real question.
"Stop it. Unless Meara is around." A'son begins to shake his head. "If you keep something hidden, don't think that he can't /find/ that. And if you had such an excellent grasp on what everything that was going on, you wouldn't have B'tal crying in the living cavern." He jerks his hand over his shoulder. "He was just trying to ignore things. Why are you allowed to avoid addressing something if he isn't?" He pauses to add, "And how do you think him being that upset made Jeibeth feel? What about their well-being? For a guy who was upset about his clutchmate's loyalty, you've got some nerve. Taking care of your shit and addressing it? That's being responsible. Ignoring it isn't. Neither is using your incredible hulk to scare someone into telling you 'what the deal is'."
Z'yi raises an eyebrow at A'son. "Well excuse me for not being Mister Omniscient," Z'yi snarks, "But I /didn't/ know what was going on. That's why, if you'll notice, /I asked/. If I /knew/, I wouldn't have /had/ to ask. Yes. I went about it the wrong way. But if you for a single fardling /second/ think that Bety thought that I would /hurt him/, you obviously don't know *anything* about me." Isz's face is-- well, the expression comes close to revulsion. "You want someone that hurts people repeatedly? Go look at your own damned weyrwoman, sir. You think she was -joking- about kicking me out? Sure. Go ask her again." His tone is bitter. "I'm sorry I hurt B'tal. I'm sorry if that hurt Jeibeth. I fucked up. I admit it. I don't know what I feel about B'tal. I don't know what I feel about /anyone/. I'm done having my heart ripped out by people. I don't /want/ to be close to anyone like that." Well, apparently Silent Isz is now a thing of the past. Perhaps unfortunately.
"If you think that Tiriana is going to kick you out of the weyr than you obviously don't know a /thing/ about /our/ damn Weyrwoman. I don't want to hear another unkind word about her, she's got this weyr's best interest at heart." This he's saying in a snappy fashion. Even though A'son's been relatively relaxed throughout most of this but something about Z'yi saying anything about her gets to him. "Did I say you /were/ going to hurt him? No, I didn't. But you had no problem, getting up and looking loomy and scary. Which is not fucking okay and I don't need to know anything about you to know that." At the last part he shakes his head and drops his hand onto the table, "Look. I'm not trying to be a nasty hardass dick. I'm just trying to say that-" He takes a breath and lets it out. "Being a weyrling doesn't mean you become mechanical and mindless. Avoiding and repressing issues isn't the answer. And hiding from anyone because you're afraid of pain is a terrible idea too." Uncomfortable looking now, "Been there more times than I can tell you."
"First. If Tiriana could get away with it? She would. She's a bitch, A'son. She may be /my damned weyrwoman/, but that doesn't make her any less of a petty power-hungry sadist. I grew up here. My mother worked under Satiet. Trust me when I say, I know a lot about weyrwomen and good ones." Z'yi isn't going to back down. Not now. He's done being bullied. "You /implied/ I was going to hurt him, A'son. You can't say something like 'use your incredible hulking powers to scare' without implying that there's something to be scared /of/." Z'yi's going to be N'thei in ten turns. Just because of Ace. And this conversation. "I can't /help/ the fact that I'm big--" And here he just throws up his hands, and stands up. "Sir. I'm sorry. But you don't make one damn bit of sense. I'm not mechanical. I'm not mindless. I'd like to say that if you asked some of my peers, they'd tell you that I'm respectful, and friendly, and that I go out of my way to help them when I'm not tangled up with cleaning up after Isforaith." He clenches his jaw. "But if I choose that I don't want to have a relationship? Ever? Ever again? That's my own damned personal choice."
"Right, and you're the only person who's ever grown up at High Reaches. Where do you think /I/ grew up?" A'son is now looking at Z'yi as if he might possibly be the dumbest person he's ever encountered. "You're not some expert on Weyrwomen. I knew Satiet for years as a person and I've known Tiriana for years. She's not a power hungry sadist and you say one more nasty remark about our Weyrwoman and you will find yourself cleaning the latrines. You don't know a damn thing about what's going on around here." Another look, "You're not a big enough blip on her radar for her to do anything to do you." There's a roll of his eyes and he's lifting his shoulders. "You don't know enough about me to say when I'm 'implying' something. Especially when I /just/ told you that's not what I meant. And all I've seen of you tonight? Is you made some kid cry, you got all scary on him, you've insulted our weyrwoman and you've been a total prick the last fifteen minutes." For the last part? He shakes his head. "It is. But you're going to be sorry if you do that."
"Well, sir, as I'm obviously worthless, stupid, and a prick, can I go tend to my lifemate, now?" Z'yi's tone is just tired, at this point, but he meets A'son's eyes without shame.
"Yeah, try not to make him cry too while you're at it." A'son makes an annoyed face, likely at the entire situation before getting up from the table. Gloves and jacket are retrieved before he tries to just get the hell out of here.
Z'yi's shoulders stiffen at that last insult. Oh, wait, this is A'son. Probably won't be the last insult. "I'll try my hardest," he sarcastically replies. "Thanks." He heads towards the barracks, stride choppy with tired anger.
Logfile from A'son.
Weyrling Training Cavern, High Reaches Weyr(#392RJLs)
All the furniture here has been pushed to one side of the room to allow a large pathway opposite: room enough to let weyrling dragons pass from the bowl's archway to the cavernous barracks at the back. None of the furniture matches, either: it varies from big cushioned, claw-footed chairs to those of plain wood, while the most seating is at the two stone tables ringed by low and equally hard stone benches. Without the tapestries that decorate many of the Weyr's other interior spaces, the room always echoes with noise, no matter how few are there.
What it does have, however, are several colorful murals: on one wall, a detailed diagram of a dragon's anatomy; opposite, next to a creaky wooden door, a number of painted and labeled wing formations. Near the entrance is a large-scale version of the Weyr's badge, while the back wall, by the barracks, features a detailed map of the continent. The latter area's also home to one big, beat-up couch, black or maybe blue -- the thing's so old and filthy it's hard to tell, though it's certainly comfortable.
Coming in from the bowl, A'son pulls his cap off. He smacks the the snow off of it before walking over to one of the stone tables, throwing it on top. His jacket gets the same treatment before he drops down onto the uncomfortable bench. Wherever Z'yi is, he gets one long look and the bronzerider holds his hands out to him in a 'Why? Why?' fashion before they're folded behind his head.
"Sir," Z'yi starts, his hands coming up in a muted, defensive gesture. "It's not my fault." Yeah. Bet Ace has heard *that* one before, Isz. Eventually, he strips off his outermost jacket to sit in his long-sleeved shirt across from A'son. "All I did was ask him why he hated me and would never talk to me."
"Okay, lets replay this situation to see where it all went tragically wrong." A'son begins, pulling himself tiredly to his feet. "When I came in, you were standing up like this," Here he begins his impersonation of him, in a greatly overdramatic fashion. Making a scary face, squaring his shoulders, trying to look imposing, "What is your deal? Act like you like me! I'm really fucking scary because I'm much bigger than you! And now I'm standing up to prove it!" Obviously this isn't an exact re-enactment. Now he shifts his shoulders and scrunches down a little. "No, no, that's not it! I'm B'tal and I'm sensitive, I'm also starting to cry because you're clearly hurting my feelings and making me upset!" He looks at the weyrling to see if he's getting the point yet. "Then of course /you/ continue like that until he's very upset and you called him /weird/. And stared at him like he was a freak when he told you the truth. It's absolutely your fault."
Z'yi doesn't bridle or bristle at A'son, though the impulse is there. Instead, he just sits, and listens, and takes it with a bowed head. "Yes, sir," he states, his tone quiet, subdued. "I-- I didn't realize." His big hands clench into fists and open wide, several times in a row, and eventually stop with fingers splayed out wide on the table. "I just..." here, his deep bass rumble breaks off rather lamely, "I just wanted to know what his deal was." And now he does.
"So you're... not a little kid." A'son starts off as he now drops back down onto the bench, sitting across from him. "B'tal on the other hand is like twelve? Or something? He's young, young enough to get really caught up and emotional and silly." He pokes the surface of the table between them, "You're not getting punished up. I'm not sending you on latrine duty or any sort of weird crap like that. But you have to go find him tomorrow or the next day, after he's had time to calm down. You need to let him know that you don't think he's silly and stupid. That the situation wasn't his fault and you misunderstood." Then he's pointing at him. "Man up."
Z'yi clenches his jaw and nods his head, once. "Yes, sir. I will, sir." In all probability, Z'yi will berate himself far worse than A'son is, currently; well, now that Isz has actually stated that yes, it is his fault. Or agreed to said statement. Z'yi squints up to A'son, after a moment or two of thoughtful silence. He looks-- well, humorless. Sorta like a drunk who kicked a puppy (back to the cocker spaniel analogy!) who just sobered up and realized it. "I'm sorry for wasting your dinner hour, sir."
"I'm going to kill you if you don't stop calling me sir every other word." A'son states rather suddenly. He drops his elbows onto the table, using his hands to cradle his head. For the squinting look and apology he lamely shakes his head back and forth. "Whatever, it's just part of the job I guess. I think I made the wrong career move. I should be out painting walls or something. Not in here." He comments, glancing around at the walls of the cavern. "Do you like this kid back? Or is this one of those 'You love me, But I'd rather you not because we're just friends' things?"
Big shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. "Honestly, A'son?" Just like that, no 'sir'! Z'yi can follow rules, so to speak, "Hell if I know. I don't have time for that right now. Isforaith is taking up all of my time, and we're coming up on our stint as wingleaders. I can't afford to be distracted by anything-- like that. Raith's too young, anyhow." All very rational answers, but everything prefaced by that 'hell if I know' may sound like an obvious avoiding-the-question move.
A'son's eyebrows raise and he taps his index finger against his face, "Honestly, Z'yi?" He starts, leaning forward. "I think you need to learn how to manage your personal life. Because if you do know and you're just lying? You're just stuffing whatever it is down into the tips of your boots? You're going to feel like shit eventually and it's all going to bubble over and be a crapfest. That's what part of being a man and not being a child is about." There's a derisive smile and he pushes back, shaking his head. "Not avoiding things just because you don't like them."
Z'yi's eyes are suddenly hard, and he raises his head to gaze evenly at A'son. "Honestly, sir," he states, his tone level, "I believe my first responsibility is to my /lifemate/. And if addressing something endangers his mental state, I would think that /that/ something can be avoided until he is of an age that he /can/ handle it. Responsibility is what being a man is all about. And if I can't be responsible for my own fardling lifemate, what does that say about /me/?" He restrains a scowl, barely, and pushes himself back in his seat, an eyebrow cocked. It was apparently a real question.
"Stop it. Unless Meara is around." A'son begins to shake his head. "If you keep something hidden, don't think that he can't /find/ that. And if you had such an excellent grasp on what everything that was going on, you wouldn't have B'tal crying in the living cavern." He jerks his hand over his shoulder. "He was just trying to ignore things. Why are you allowed to avoid addressing something if he isn't?" He pauses to add, "And how do you think him being that upset made Jeibeth feel? What about their well-being? For a guy who was upset about his clutchmate's loyalty, you've got some nerve. Taking care of your shit and addressing it? That's being responsible. Ignoring it isn't. Neither is using your incredible hulk to scare someone into telling you 'what the deal is'."
Z'yi raises an eyebrow at A'son. "Well excuse me for not being Mister Omniscient," Z'yi snarks, "But I /didn't/ know what was going on. That's why, if you'll notice, /I asked/. If I /knew/, I wouldn't have /had/ to ask. Yes. I went about it the wrong way. But if you for a single fardling /second/ think that Bety thought that I would /hurt him/, you obviously don't know *anything* about me." Isz's face is-- well, the expression comes close to revulsion. "You want someone that hurts people repeatedly? Go look at your own damned weyrwoman, sir. You think she was -joking- about kicking me out? Sure. Go ask her again." His tone is bitter. "I'm sorry I hurt B'tal. I'm sorry if that hurt Jeibeth. I fucked up. I admit it. I don't know what I feel about B'tal. I don't know what I feel about /anyone/. I'm done having my heart ripped out by people. I don't /want/ to be close to anyone like that." Well, apparently Silent Isz is now a thing of the past. Perhaps unfortunately.
"If you think that Tiriana is going to kick you out of the weyr than you obviously don't know a /thing/ about /our/ damn Weyrwoman. I don't want to hear another unkind word about her, she's got this weyr's best interest at heart." This he's saying in a snappy fashion. Even though A'son's been relatively relaxed throughout most of this but something about Z'yi saying anything about her gets to him. "Did I say you /were/ going to hurt him? No, I didn't. But you had no problem, getting up and looking loomy and scary. Which is not fucking okay and I don't need to know anything about you to know that." At the last part he shakes his head and drops his hand onto the table, "Look. I'm not trying to be a nasty hardass dick. I'm just trying to say that-" He takes a breath and lets it out. "Being a weyrling doesn't mean you become mechanical and mindless. Avoiding and repressing issues isn't the answer. And hiding from anyone because you're afraid of pain is a terrible idea too." Uncomfortable looking now, "Been there more times than I can tell you."
"First. If Tiriana could get away with it? She would. She's a bitch, A'son. She may be /my damned weyrwoman/, but that doesn't make her any less of a petty power-hungry sadist. I grew up here. My mother worked under Satiet. Trust me when I say, I know a lot about weyrwomen and good ones." Z'yi isn't going to back down. Not now. He's done being bullied. "You /implied/ I was going to hurt him, A'son. You can't say something like 'use your incredible hulking powers to scare' without implying that there's something to be scared /of/." Z'yi's going to be N'thei in ten turns. Just because of Ace. And this conversation. "I can't /help/ the fact that I'm big--" And here he just throws up his hands, and stands up. "Sir. I'm sorry. But you don't make one damn bit of sense. I'm not mechanical. I'm not mindless. I'd like to say that if you asked some of my peers, they'd tell you that I'm respectful, and friendly, and that I go out of my way to help them when I'm not tangled up with cleaning up after Isforaith." He clenches his jaw. "But if I choose that I don't want to have a relationship? Ever? Ever again? That's my own damned personal choice."
"Right, and you're the only person who's ever grown up at High Reaches. Where do you think /I/ grew up?" A'son is now looking at Z'yi as if he might possibly be the dumbest person he's ever encountered. "You're not some expert on Weyrwomen. I knew Satiet for years as a person and I've known Tiriana for years. She's not a power hungry sadist and you say one more nasty remark about our Weyrwoman and you will find yourself cleaning the latrines. You don't know a damn thing about what's going on around here." Another look, "You're not a big enough blip on her radar for her to do anything to do you." There's a roll of his eyes and he's lifting his shoulders. "You don't know enough about me to say when I'm 'implying' something. Especially when I /just/ told you that's not what I meant. And all I've seen of you tonight? Is you made some kid cry, you got all scary on him, you've insulted our weyrwoman and you've been a total prick the last fifteen minutes." For the last part? He shakes his head. "It is. But you're going to be sorry if you do that."
"Well, sir, as I'm obviously worthless, stupid, and a prick, can I go tend to my lifemate, now?" Z'yi's tone is just tired, at this point, but he meets A'son's eyes without shame.
"Yeah, try not to make him cry too while you're at it." A'son makes an annoyed face, likely at the entire situation before getting up from the table. Gloves and jacket are retrieved before he tries to just get the hell out of here.
Z'yi's shoulders stiffen at that last insult. Oh, wait, this is A'son. Probably won't be the last insult. "I'll try my hardest," he sarcastically replies. "Thanks." He heads towards the barracks, stride choppy with tired anger.