He will not disappoint
8-15-2006 (J'cor, Br'ce):
Karth> To Trellazoth: Karth's touch is calm, but insistent. << The Weyrleader wishes to speak with you after the lunch hour. >> A somewhat hazy image, drawn from his rider's memory and not his own: an office with lots of chairs. << He will be in the office. >>
Karth> Trellazoth is surprised, but eager. << He will be there, come rain or snow or sleet. Or all three. >> is promised. << He will not disappoint. >>
Karth> To Trellazoth: Karth pauses, surprised in turn by the eagerness. He allows a small note of approval to trickle into his short reply: << Very well. >>
Weyrleaders' Office
Much of the formal and informal business that concerns the weyrleaders is conducted here. As such, an effort has been made to keep this chamber comfortable out of respect for the long hours of work required to keep the Weyr running. The walls are bright with tapestries and the floors warm with thick rugs. A large sandtable holds pride of place in the center of the room, one half covered with a sheet of glass to serve as a writing surface. A second, smaller table holds whatever writing implements and record hides are needed by the staff. The chairs that ring this area are thickly cushioned but otherwise undecorated.
The stairs that led into the complex from the bowl continue up to the right, taking one into the Weyrleader's weyr. A large tunnel to the left curves down to the senior Weyrwoman's weyr, broken only by the smaller tunnel that leads to one of the junior's weyrs. The last tunnel, opposite the entrance, leads to the second junior's weyr.
Obvious Exits:
Council Chamber (CC) West Wing (WE) East Wing (EW)
North Weyr (NW) Weyrleader's Weyr (WL) Bowl (B)
J'cor does not have the office to himself - not right away - but as the lunch hour draws to a close, he's making a gentle effort to usher out the eager greenrider who shared his lunch and a discussion of Thread-fighting practices. "Thank you, N'tral, it's been a pleasure," J'cor is saying, his hand placed lightly on the other man's shoulder blades as he guides him to the bowl entrance. There, the two exchange a sharp salute before N'tral spins on his heel and heads out, leaving J'cor the room.
Br'ce has been waiting politely outside the room, and waits a moment's suitable pause after N'tral's departure to make his entrance. He draws himself up with erect dignity as he stops in front of the weyrleader, the very picture of prim attention. "Sir, I believe you wished to see me?" It's promptly just past the lunch hour, and Br'ce is looking spic and span. Fresh leathers, hair combed, and his appearance showing an even more meticulous attention to neatness than usual. His expression is determinedly neutral, though with a slight edge towards wincing. Not helped by his dragon's repeated images of the two of them living a bucolic ideal in exile, hunting in pairs for wild beasts, and roasting in front of a cave while Br'ce darns his patched and ragged clothing.
J'cor skims over Br'ce's slicked up appearance, his mild smile of welcome unaffected by any of the details he sees. "I did, Br'ce; will you sit?" The weyrleader motions to a chair pulled up to the sandstone table - one so recently vacated by N'tral, the seat's probably still warm. "I must apologize for the delay. I don't suppose you're acquainted with N'tral?" J'cor speaks with his back to Br'ce, already crossing around to his own chair on the other side of the table.
"Sir." Br'ce says neutrally, thrown somewhat off by J'cor's smiling welcome. This...wasn't in the script he was expecting. With a mental shrug (he'd never do anything so crass as actually shrug at a meeting like this) he takes a seat in the chair, though compromises with his stiff dignity by making sure he sits up straight, hands resting lightly on his thighs. "I've observed him, from time to time, though we've never really spoken. A conscientious man, though he and his dragon tend to get a little too keyed up during Fall and lose stamina quickly." he gives a brief evaluation of the man, mostly to buy himself some extra time to think. Um. "I don't believe you called me in here to talk about N'tral, though." Just get it over with already. Whatever 'it' is.
J'cor listens with patient attention that sharpens to keener interest at Br'ce's closing comment. It comes just as he's settling into his own chair, and for a bit the motion is arrested. He resumes, however, with a touch of extra broadness to his smile. "Not my immediate purpose, no," he murmurs. He folds his fingers together on his stomach, elbows rested out on the arms of his chair. "I called you in to discuss the pending reopening of wing 3C." He pauses here, allowing Br'ce time to digest - the fact that J'cor plans to reopen 3C is news not yet made public. "And to sound out your interests on the matter."
Br'ce is now entirely too distracted to keep the blank expression on his face. Brows raise, first in surprise, and then sweep down and furrow in thought. "I was unaware that 3C was coming back on active duty..." he says slowly, drawing out the words to buy time. "I'm not quite sure as to what you mean by 'interests'. I am quite relieved and glad to hear that 3C is reopening. We need every wing we can lay our hands on in order to fully carry out our--duties." The last word is said with only a slight hiccup, as he recalls the last conversation he had with J'cor about duty. Still, this is neither the time nor the place to air his issues. "I thought that wingleader I'zul was transferring, though. Or already had been. The wing doesn't quite strike me as ready to reopen."
J'cor raises his brows at that hiccup on duties, but there's not a trace of displeasure there that would indicate he has similar discomforts about the issue. "I'zul's transfer has been finalized as of this morning; in exchange, Benden has given me ten blue- and green-riding dragonpairs to help flesh out the wing. N'tral, and eleven others, have also agreed to join 3C; I expect its numbers will receive another bump in a few sevendays, when Weyrlingmaster R'vain has assured me his charges will be ready." His hands unfold and come to rest more casually across his stomach. "I apologize for coming to you last, Br'ce; I will confess that I had previously considered another man, however, you are the better choice, and if you are also interested I would like you to become 3C's new wingleader."
Br'ce raises his brows. "Well, those extra numbers do a great deal towards bringing 3C back up to a more Fall-ready level..." he says thoughtfully, before J'cor's next words elicit a very surprised look. Mouth open. Mouth closed. Mouth open. Mouth closed. Mouth--"Sir. I'm only a brownrider." he protests, visibly unnerved. "Are you sure about this?" Unnerved enough to start questioning the Weyrleader's sanity, at least. "This is not going to go over well. There are a number of bronzeriders who will probably feel somewhat snubbed." Note the implicit arrogance in the man in his lack of protesting his own fitness for the job.
J'cor folds his fingers back together, leaning his head back to take an appraising look at Br'ce. "I have not forgotten to consider those bronzeriders, but you are the choice I have made." And that choice is inarguable, his tone says, as his smile becomes ever so faintly grim. "You are familiar with the Reaches as well as with the Benden riders; you are capable and observant, I believe, and your temperament will be well suited to control what I confess is a somewhat -" he pauses, picking the word with caution and some dry amusement - "daredevil wing. It takes a certain type of person to overcome the stigma of 3C." One of his fingers flicks up, admitting the difficulty.
Br'ce nods along faintly, absorbing J'cor's words intently. "Assuming they don't drive me insane, first." he mutters, one finger tapping idly against the arm of his chair as he thinks frantically. "I guess you leave me no choice but to accept, sir. I'm sure you've already considered the ramifications and the fallout from this action, and I don't think I could add anything substantial to it." The finger stills as he reaches a decision. "I will do my best, sir, to make them into a fighting wing once more. That will be my one and /only/ concern." is added, with a slight frown. "I'm not a very political man, sir, and I've no doubt that this is going to have political ramifications. I don't want anything to do with those." The finger taps again for a moment. "Am I going to get Tavaly?" The question is asked neutrally.
J'cor's brows move up. "No," he answers simply, no explanation offered for his decision. "It does not escape me, Br'ce, that your response is somewhat less than enthusiastic. Though it is a difficult thing to refuse a Weyrleader's request, in this case I must know whether this lack of enthusiasm stems from disinterest in the wing or from - other causes," he allows, freeing his fingers to give them a dismissive flick. The Nabolese subtext of those 'other causes' seems clear from his slight frown, the only cue thus far that J'cor even associates Br'ce with that event.
"Ah." Br'ce seems faintly relieved by that answer. A minute shake of his head, and he's moving on to the next subject. "My reluctance stems, sir, more from the color of my dragon than anything else. Primarily from my dragon, actually. It will be difficult to establish my authority. More difficult than it would be to do with a bronzerider." In other words, he's trying to make sure that J'cor has an out if he decides to change his mind. "I am very interested in this wing, sir. In positions of... authority." Lips compress as he hesitates, trying to figure out how to phrase his next words. "I don't know if you're aware of this, and I would like this to remain a secret. But I was due to be appointed wingsecond just before I transferred here to High Reaches, for personal reasons. I have a strong interest in being in a position where I can do as much good as I can. If you feel that wingleader is that position, then I am not one to argue with you."
"This was one of the things that brought you to my attention," J'cor murmurs, patently unsurprised by the revelation. His smile reappears with a reassuring note. "There are no bronzeriders in your wing, Br'ce, and the only other brownrider is not older than you." He stops here with a quirked brow - dragon color will not be the only obstacle this new wingleader will face. "The other riders selected, although in some cases ... unique ... are united in their willingness to overcome a certain social stigma for the good of the weyr. It's my belief that you can do a great deal with such a wing."
Br'ce shifts uncomfortably in his chair for a moment (was his almost-promotion common knowledge, and is it going to get to T'ral?) but firmly squashes the extraneous thoughts. "Thank you for that consideration, sir. I feel fairly confident in my ability to deal with recalcitrant riders. We all have a common goal, and I think we can rise above any stigma that does exist, and turn it into a badge of pride." The distracted expression on his face is entirely him already starting to rehearse and compose inspirational speeches to give to his riders.
J'cor nods slowly at the ringing statement with which Br'ce closes his acceptance, and then rises to his feet. This, of course, is a cue for the brownrider to do so, as well. "I think so, as well." While his right hand stretches across the table for a proferred shake of agreement, his left is finding a pocket in his jacket where he has a wingleader's knot all ready for the completion of his meeting. This he will give to Br'ce right after the handshake is sealed.
The few, the odd, the proud. We will show--what? Oh. Br'ce comes back to the present, belatedly jumping to his feet as well in the wake of J'cor. "Thank you, sir." he says simply, shaking the man's hand with a firm grip and accepting the knot with only a touch of hesitation. "This is effective immediately, right, sir? Is there any part of this discussion which I should be keeping under wraps for the time being?" he hesitates, about to don the knot.
J'cor turns his hand over, implied permission for Br'ce to put on the knot. "This is effective immediately," he confirms. "I'zul was notified about his transfer long in advance, and has had sufficient time to tell those whom he would tell; at this point, I suspect, speculation is already making its way through the weyr." J'cor glances down at the table, stepping to the side where a pile of papers awaits him, and pushes through them till he finds one with a list. He offers it to Br'ce. "Your wing. They have all been informed of their transfer, though they were not told who their wingleader will be. How you disseminate this information is entirely up to you."
Br'ce quickly changes out his knots, slipping his old one into his pocket for remembrance's sake. Funny, he doesn't feel like a wingleader now. Wasn't the knot supposed to confer courage and wisdom and grace under fire? "Thank you. I think...I'll try to inform them separately. I need a chance to guage their personalities properly." He allows himself a moment to feel daunted, before he quickly dispells the feeling. "It was good speaking to you, sir. I'll get right on this."
J'cor inclines his head graciously before he resumes his seat. Unlike N'tral, who had to be escorted out, Br'ce has been timely and is therefore spared the gentle guide. "Thank you, wingleader. I think that wise." He plants a smile back on his face, hands folded once again over his stomach.
Br'ce salutes smartly, tucking the list under his shoulder, spinning on his heel, and marches out of the office. Probably to find a quiet corner to gibber to himself for a few moments as he reads the list, and then compose himself again.
Karth> To Trellazoth: Karth's touch is calm, but insistent. << The Weyrleader wishes to speak with you after the lunch hour. >> A somewhat hazy image, drawn from his rider's memory and not his own: an office with lots of chairs. << He will be in the office. >>
Karth> Trellazoth is surprised, but eager. << He will be there, come rain or snow or sleet. Or all three. >> is promised. << He will not disappoint. >>
Karth> To Trellazoth: Karth pauses, surprised in turn by the eagerness. He allows a small note of approval to trickle into his short reply: << Very well. >>
Weyrleaders' Office
Much of the formal and informal business that concerns the weyrleaders is conducted here. As such, an effort has been made to keep this chamber comfortable out of respect for the long hours of work required to keep the Weyr running. The walls are bright with tapestries and the floors warm with thick rugs. A large sandtable holds pride of place in the center of the room, one half covered with a sheet of glass to serve as a writing surface. A second, smaller table holds whatever writing implements and record hides are needed by the staff. The chairs that ring this area are thickly cushioned but otherwise undecorated.
The stairs that led into the complex from the bowl continue up to the right, taking one into the Weyrleader's weyr. A large tunnel to the left curves down to the senior Weyrwoman's weyr, broken only by the smaller tunnel that leads to one of the junior's weyrs. The last tunnel, opposite the entrance, leads to the second junior's weyr.
Obvious Exits:
Council Chamber (CC) West Wing (WE) East Wing (EW)
North Weyr (NW) Weyrleader's Weyr (WL) Bowl (B)
J'cor does not have the office to himself - not right away - but as the lunch hour draws to a close, he's making a gentle effort to usher out the eager greenrider who shared his lunch and a discussion of Thread-fighting practices. "Thank you, N'tral, it's been a pleasure," J'cor is saying, his hand placed lightly on the other man's shoulder blades as he guides him to the bowl entrance. There, the two exchange a sharp salute before N'tral spins on his heel and heads out, leaving J'cor the room.
Br'ce has been waiting politely outside the room, and waits a moment's suitable pause after N'tral's departure to make his entrance. He draws himself up with erect dignity as he stops in front of the weyrleader, the very picture of prim attention. "Sir, I believe you wished to see me?" It's promptly just past the lunch hour, and Br'ce is looking spic and span. Fresh leathers, hair combed, and his appearance showing an even more meticulous attention to neatness than usual. His expression is determinedly neutral, though with a slight edge towards wincing. Not helped by his dragon's repeated images of the two of them living a bucolic ideal in exile, hunting in pairs for wild beasts, and roasting in front of a cave while Br'ce darns his patched and ragged clothing.
J'cor skims over Br'ce's slicked up appearance, his mild smile of welcome unaffected by any of the details he sees. "I did, Br'ce; will you sit?" The weyrleader motions to a chair pulled up to the sandstone table - one so recently vacated by N'tral, the seat's probably still warm. "I must apologize for the delay. I don't suppose you're acquainted with N'tral?" J'cor speaks with his back to Br'ce, already crossing around to his own chair on the other side of the table.
"Sir." Br'ce says neutrally, thrown somewhat off by J'cor's smiling welcome. This...wasn't in the script he was expecting. With a mental shrug (he'd never do anything so crass as actually shrug at a meeting like this) he takes a seat in the chair, though compromises with his stiff dignity by making sure he sits up straight, hands resting lightly on his thighs. "I've observed him, from time to time, though we've never really spoken. A conscientious man, though he and his dragon tend to get a little too keyed up during Fall and lose stamina quickly." he gives a brief evaluation of the man, mostly to buy himself some extra time to think. Um. "I don't believe you called me in here to talk about N'tral, though." Just get it over with already. Whatever 'it' is.
J'cor listens with patient attention that sharpens to keener interest at Br'ce's closing comment. It comes just as he's settling into his own chair, and for a bit the motion is arrested. He resumes, however, with a touch of extra broadness to his smile. "Not my immediate purpose, no," he murmurs. He folds his fingers together on his stomach, elbows rested out on the arms of his chair. "I called you in to discuss the pending reopening of wing 3C." He pauses here, allowing Br'ce time to digest - the fact that J'cor plans to reopen 3C is news not yet made public. "And to sound out your interests on the matter."
Br'ce is now entirely too distracted to keep the blank expression on his face. Brows raise, first in surprise, and then sweep down and furrow in thought. "I was unaware that 3C was coming back on active duty..." he says slowly, drawing out the words to buy time. "I'm not quite sure as to what you mean by 'interests'. I am quite relieved and glad to hear that 3C is reopening. We need every wing we can lay our hands on in order to fully carry out our--duties." The last word is said with only a slight hiccup, as he recalls the last conversation he had with J'cor about duty. Still, this is neither the time nor the place to air his issues. "I thought that wingleader I'zul was transferring, though. Or already had been. The wing doesn't quite strike me as ready to reopen."
J'cor raises his brows at that hiccup on duties, but there's not a trace of displeasure there that would indicate he has similar discomforts about the issue. "I'zul's transfer has been finalized as of this morning; in exchange, Benden has given me ten blue- and green-riding dragonpairs to help flesh out the wing. N'tral, and eleven others, have also agreed to join 3C; I expect its numbers will receive another bump in a few sevendays, when Weyrlingmaster R'vain has assured me his charges will be ready." His hands unfold and come to rest more casually across his stomach. "I apologize for coming to you last, Br'ce; I will confess that I had previously considered another man, however, you are the better choice, and if you are also interested I would like you to become 3C's new wingleader."
Br'ce raises his brows. "Well, those extra numbers do a great deal towards bringing 3C back up to a more Fall-ready level..." he says thoughtfully, before J'cor's next words elicit a very surprised look. Mouth open. Mouth closed. Mouth open. Mouth closed. Mouth--"Sir. I'm only a brownrider." he protests, visibly unnerved. "Are you sure about this?" Unnerved enough to start questioning the Weyrleader's sanity, at least. "This is not going to go over well. There are a number of bronzeriders who will probably feel somewhat snubbed." Note the implicit arrogance in the man in his lack of protesting his own fitness for the job.
J'cor folds his fingers back together, leaning his head back to take an appraising look at Br'ce. "I have not forgotten to consider those bronzeriders, but you are the choice I have made." And that choice is inarguable, his tone says, as his smile becomes ever so faintly grim. "You are familiar with the Reaches as well as with the Benden riders; you are capable and observant, I believe, and your temperament will be well suited to control what I confess is a somewhat -" he pauses, picking the word with caution and some dry amusement - "daredevil wing. It takes a certain type of person to overcome the stigma of 3C." One of his fingers flicks up, admitting the difficulty.
Br'ce nods along faintly, absorbing J'cor's words intently. "Assuming they don't drive me insane, first." he mutters, one finger tapping idly against the arm of his chair as he thinks frantically. "I guess you leave me no choice but to accept, sir. I'm sure you've already considered the ramifications and the fallout from this action, and I don't think I could add anything substantial to it." The finger stills as he reaches a decision. "I will do my best, sir, to make them into a fighting wing once more. That will be my one and /only/ concern." is added, with a slight frown. "I'm not a very political man, sir, and I've no doubt that this is going to have political ramifications. I don't want anything to do with those." The finger taps again for a moment. "Am I going to get Tavaly?" The question is asked neutrally.
J'cor's brows move up. "No," he answers simply, no explanation offered for his decision. "It does not escape me, Br'ce, that your response is somewhat less than enthusiastic. Though it is a difficult thing to refuse a Weyrleader's request, in this case I must know whether this lack of enthusiasm stems from disinterest in the wing or from - other causes," he allows, freeing his fingers to give them a dismissive flick. The Nabolese subtext of those 'other causes' seems clear from his slight frown, the only cue thus far that J'cor even associates Br'ce with that event.
"Ah." Br'ce seems faintly relieved by that answer. A minute shake of his head, and he's moving on to the next subject. "My reluctance stems, sir, more from the color of my dragon than anything else. Primarily from my dragon, actually. It will be difficult to establish my authority. More difficult than it would be to do with a bronzerider." In other words, he's trying to make sure that J'cor has an out if he decides to change his mind. "I am very interested in this wing, sir. In positions of... authority." Lips compress as he hesitates, trying to figure out how to phrase his next words. "I don't know if you're aware of this, and I would like this to remain a secret. But I was due to be appointed wingsecond just before I transferred here to High Reaches, for personal reasons. I have a strong interest in being in a position where I can do as much good as I can. If you feel that wingleader is that position, then I am not one to argue with you."
"This was one of the things that brought you to my attention," J'cor murmurs, patently unsurprised by the revelation. His smile reappears with a reassuring note. "There are no bronzeriders in your wing, Br'ce, and the only other brownrider is not older than you." He stops here with a quirked brow - dragon color will not be the only obstacle this new wingleader will face. "The other riders selected, although in some cases ... unique ... are united in their willingness to overcome a certain social stigma for the good of the weyr. It's my belief that you can do a great deal with such a wing."
Br'ce shifts uncomfortably in his chair for a moment (was his almost-promotion common knowledge, and is it going to get to T'ral?) but firmly squashes the extraneous thoughts. "Thank you for that consideration, sir. I feel fairly confident in my ability to deal with recalcitrant riders. We all have a common goal, and I think we can rise above any stigma that does exist, and turn it into a badge of pride." The distracted expression on his face is entirely him already starting to rehearse and compose inspirational speeches to give to his riders.
J'cor nods slowly at the ringing statement with which Br'ce closes his acceptance, and then rises to his feet. This, of course, is a cue for the brownrider to do so, as well. "I think so, as well." While his right hand stretches across the table for a proferred shake of agreement, his left is finding a pocket in his jacket where he has a wingleader's knot all ready for the completion of his meeting. This he will give to Br'ce right after the handshake is sealed.
The few, the odd, the proud. We will show--what? Oh. Br'ce comes back to the present, belatedly jumping to his feet as well in the wake of J'cor. "Thank you, sir." he says simply, shaking the man's hand with a firm grip and accepting the knot with only a touch of hesitation. "This is effective immediately, right, sir? Is there any part of this discussion which I should be keeping under wraps for the time being?" he hesitates, about to don the knot.
J'cor turns his hand over, implied permission for Br'ce to put on the knot. "This is effective immediately," he confirms. "I'zul was notified about his transfer long in advance, and has had sufficient time to tell those whom he would tell; at this point, I suspect, speculation is already making its way through the weyr." J'cor glances down at the table, stepping to the side where a pile of papers awaits him, and pushes through them till he finds one with a list. He offers it to Br'ce. "Your wing. They have all been informed of their transfer, though they were not told who their wingleader will be. How you disseminate this information is entirely up to you."
Br'ce quickly changes out his knots, slipping his old one into his pocket for remembrance's sake. Funny, he doesn't feel like a wingleader now. Wasn't the knot supposed to confer courage and wisdom and grace under fire? "Thank you. I think...I'll try to inform them separately. I need a chance to guage their personalities properly." He allows himself a moment to feel daunted, before he quickly dispells the feeling. "It was good speaking to you, sir. I'll get right on this."
J'cor inclines his head graciously before he resumes his seat. Unlike N'tral, who had to be escorted out, Br'ce has been timely and is therefore spared the gentle guide. "Thank you, wingleader. I think that wise." He plants a smile back on his face, hands folded once again over his stomach.
Br'ce salutes smartly, tucking the list under his shoulder, spinning on his heel, and marches out of the office. Probably to find a quiet corner to gibber to himself for a few moments as he reads the list, and then compose himself again.