Bad klah, bad news
It is a spring morning, 10:12 of day 14, month 5, turn 23 of Interval 10.
Southern Bowl, Fort Weyr
Usually, this end of the bowl is grassy and serene with the pretty blue of the lake as a draw for residents, riders and dragons alike. Since the earthslide collapsed however, it's been a sea of mud, knee deep and higher in some places and the lake's waters spilling messily over hither and yon. Forlorn trees stick up out of the mess, though the weyrfolk have been doing a lot of digging to fix things up and continued rain is conspiring to wash much of the muck off the rocky edge that now opens up one side of the bowl.
The muddied lake shore is further to the southwest, creating a vast half-crescent that should contain the blue-green waters of the lake proper, but currently contains a brown, milky-looking, muddy mess. More to the west, the feeding grounds are still half covered with a fine layer of muck and the beasts are hemmed into tight quarters on one end. Off toward the distant northeast are the weyrling barracks, the Weyrleader's complex, the hatching complex, living cavern, and infirmary.
Obvious exits:
Mudslide Flight Cave Northern Bowl Weyrling Barracks Hot Springs Infirmary Feeding Grounds
Mid-morning and the bowl is still shrouded in dampness and silvery gray, playing tricks on both eyes and ears. Navigating through the centre might be a bit tricky, but 'round the edges torches have been lit and in some places larger glow baskets hung to help dispel the murk and provide beacons for those required to traverse the exterior portions of the Weyr. Despite the weather -- or perhaps because of it -- a few of the weyrlings with wakeful lifemates have been gathered out in front of the barracks, V'rel guiding them through a 'lesson' that's more a game of hide-and-seek. Near by and observing, but far enough away to be clear he's not directly involved, G'dri is leaning up against Khameth, the blue's attention riveted upon the babies.
Obsidian landed a few minutes ago in a rush of wings and the odd heavy thump, the riders' voices and cheerful heckling made simultaneously clear and soft by the fog. A period of silence save for the Weyrleader's voice ends with more wings, as most of the dragons lift for more hospitable skies. Dark clumps fade as their riders head for the caverns, but one shape grows more distinct: B'kaiv, heading for Khameth with the scowl that's become more common of late squarely in place. No Chielyth: she's heading back to her weyr, and a nap while Kai coils her straps. "Hey," he offers as greeting, meant to encompass both man and blue. "They're getting bigger." A nod for the barely-visible weyrlings.
"Morning," G'dri returns, mug lifted in a wave/salute of sorts once his attention has been caught by that 'hey.' Khameth drops his head briefly to rumble quietly in his own greeting, before fixing his gaze once more upon the bumblers, human as well as dragonet. "You'd think it would be easier to remember, just how fast they seem to grow in the first few months. And yet it always comes as a surprise." Shaking his head, and apparently trusting that Khameth will let him know if his help is suddenly required, he pushes away from the dark blue's shoulder and turns more fully to face Kai. "Should I even ask how the drilling went?"
"Yeah," the greenrider agrees, offering a pat for Khameth's muzzle and a twisted not-smile for his rider. It's the latter that he focuses on after turning an eye toward the impenetrable fog above. "Once we got outta this crap, weren't so bad. We went t' th' other side of th' mountains. T'kyn were saying, though, it stays this foggy later, we're gonna stick here and sharding well drill in it." A snort. "Like /that/ ain't asking for th' whole sharding wing in th' infirmary, but he's the sharding Weyrleader, ain't he."
G'dri looks a little pained by the end of that complaint, his brows drawn together in a frown he attempts to drown in klah. "If the wrong person overhears you," he begins mildly, "You're like to find yourself stuck on lift duty or worse, sitting on the wrong side of the desk in my office." Despite the caution in his voice, the look in his eyes is sympathetic. With as tricky as acoustics are, he still takes the risk to continue, "Though many would agree that the schedule he demands is extreme. Running your riders ragged is not how you keep them in top form."
B'kaiv says, "Yeah, and you don't think that'd be a nice change?" but he does lower his voice, at least a little. Foggy acoustics being what they are, it's hard to say how far his complaint travels. "I ain't th' only one complaining, neither." Another round of 'but he's the sharding weyrleader' goes unspoken before Kai drops a nod at a flash of tiny green wing. "You still want me showing 'em how t' throw punches? When you want me t' start?"
"Not particularly," G'dri is honest enough to say straight up. Tilting his head, he considers the greenrider for several seconds before asking, "So why haven't any of you spoken directly to him about it?" Hand lifted to forestall the obvious retort, "A good leader listens to the people he leads. I may not have ever /been/ one, but I've flown under a few and observed more. If enough of his wingriders protest, perhaps he will be convinced to rethink his approach." Ever the reasonable one, though enough of a realist that he doesn't actually sound particular hopeful. With his gaze turning to follow that nod, a smile quirking as laughter accompanied by a 'yes you found me!' drifts through the air, he replies, "I do, yes, though not for a couple months yet. The dragonets are as yet too young and easily distressed, and the weyrlings are often too distracted by them to properly focus. I won't risk injury to them, or to you."
B'kaiv scowls and snugs folded arms tighter, leaving that oh-so-sensible (if idealistic) question unanswered, especially after G'dri cuts him off. "Yeah, well," he says instead, acknowledging the thought behind it even as he -also- acknowledges the likely chance of that happening. Derisive, "/They/ ain't gonna do me no-- wait, you mean th' hatchlings, don'tcha." He squints over to see if he's judged it correctly. "I throw a punch, some little boy squalls, and his blue comes charging over, cuts me up on accident. I got you now. Well, you let me know. There's a couple in there as I told I'd show a few things, so I know 'em already."
A couple swallows of klah go down while Kai works that out aloud, G'dri grimacing as he lowers the mug. The grimace is likely enough for the taste, as he takes a step away before dumping the last bit of dark liquid to soak into the ground. "Exactly so," comes the verbal confirmation as he turns back again, though his eyes focus on the vague shapes of his charges in the not-so-far distance. "Once the world stops being quite so new and their minds have matured a little more, then they'll be ready." Glancing over, his smile this time is all for the greenrider. "That's good. If they're familiar with you ahead of time, and you with them, that should make it easier for you all. Less time needed to feel each other out, so the focus can be on learning what's needed." A pause. "If I haven't already said so, I've appreciated what you've been doing so far. The trays. I'm sure the weyrlings have as well."
"Klah's been bad, last seven," Kai sympathizes as he watches the mug emptied. "Tastes like they're using water from th' lake." He offers a hand to take it, though only for a moment, and then he nods after the weyrlings and turns to G'dri in time to catch the smile square on. "Yeah, well." He doesn't scuff a foot or color becomingly, but his return smile is decidedly crooked. "Ain't nothing," is probably about the trays. "I got time, and if she's sleeping, I ain't got no place t' go." "--You think he's gonna... you know? Next time? Or's he all still wrapped up in th' babies? Should be about five sevens from now," he adds helpfully.
"Shells," G'dri mutters, a word that's steadily becoming a more integral part of his vocabulary. Picking up bad habits, it would seem. "I hadn't thought--" There's that pained look again, and this time he can't even hide behind his mug. "If she invites him, as she has in the past, I believe that would be enough to capture his attention. I could prevent him...." He actually winces a little, casting a sidelong look towards Khameth who remains, to all appearances, utterly oblivious of the humans next to him. If the visual show is entertaining, the mental chatter must be fascinating -- for him, at least.
Kai winces as well, and isn't that an interesting rock wall over there, through the fog. "Shells. Yeah." There should be no question about the source of the Weyrlingmaster's slipping vocabulary. "Yeah, she probably... I can try and get her t' not, if you want? I mean, you know," he gestures at the shadowy forms before reknotting his arms, tight, "you got th' babies, and all, and it ain't like you got th' time t' go chasing. --Or waiting, after," he adds, voice low and reluctant.
About as interesting as Khameth's front left foot, truly! "He chases once, /maybe/ twice in a month. And since the hatching, he hasn't really been paying much attention to other adults. Chielyth, mostly, and Lisveth of course. Those two've been close ever since they cracked shell." A few other names join the list, a fellow blue and two browns Kai should recognise as being in Jasper. "And if he /does/...." G'dri sighs, rubbing at his jaw with the heel of his hand. "I don't like to deny him a chance." Not usually so discomfitted, the Weyrlingmaster pushes his hand higher, shoving his fingers into his hair. "We'll just have to see what happens, I suppose. Regardless... it's not like my weyr is such a long trek from the office. If...." He lets that trail off with a shrug.
B'kaiv sends a quick look over at the subject of this discussion, in case he's taking offense at being spoken about (or has anything to add in his defense). "Yeah. I just-- shells." Now he /does/ scuff a foot, but only to find a rock to kick, and keeps his eyes firmly upon it. "Dunno as I want t'--you know. Come marching over here and drag you outta whatever it is you're doing. Ain't fair t' th' weyrlings." Or discreet either, but he doesn't say that bit. "I just--I'll ask her t' not ask him. Maybe she'll forget, maybe he'll chase any road. S'gonna be half a turn until she goes up again."
G'dri's expression is a hard to describe combination of consternation and frustration, though Kai's among the few who can actually recognise it as being more than a simple need to burp. "We'll just have to see what happens," he repeats after several seconds have ticked past and no brilliant solution has walked up to hit either one of them over the head. "And work it out when we get there. I've never--" There's no outcry from the weyrlings outside, but Khameth's head lifts higher suddenly and he rumbles deep in his chest. "Ah shells. Leilani's having a time of it, again. I'm sorry, Kai, I have to see to it." As far as a farewell it's highly lacking, but that's all there's time for before the Weyrlingmaster hustles off to take care of whatever minor crisis is happening this time.
Shells. Shells, shells, shells. Wish I could just sharding get drunk, after. Or before, except that ain't far to her. Shells.
Southern Bowl, Fort Weyr
Usually, this end of the bowl is grassy and serene with the pretty blue of the lake as a draw for residents, riders and dragons alike. Since the earthslide collapsed however, it's been a sea of mud, knee deep and higher in some places and the lake's waters spilling messily over hither and yon. Forlorn trees stick up out of the mess, though the weyrfolk have been doing a lot of digging to fix things up and continued rain is conspiring to wash much of the muck off the rocky edge that now opens up one side of the bowl.
The muddied lake shore is further to the southwest, creating a vast half-crescent that should contain the blue-green waters of the lake proper, but currently contains a brown, milky-looking, muddy mess. More to the west, the feeding grounds are still half covered with a fine layer of muck and the beasts are hemmed into tight quarters on one end. Off toward the distant northeast are the weyrling barracks, the Weyrleader's complex, the hatching complex, living cavern, and infirmary.
Obvious exits:
Mudslide Flight Cave Northern Bowl Weyrling Barracks Hot Springs Infirmary Feeding Grounds
Mid-morning and the bowl is still shrouded in dampness and silvery gray, playing tricks on both eyes and ears. Navigating through the centre might be a bit tricky, but 'round the edges torches have been lit and in some places larger glow baskets hung to help dispel the murk and provide beacons for those required to traverse the exterior portions of the Weyr. Despite the weather -- or perhaps because of it -- a few of the weyrlings with wakeful lifemates have been gathered out in front of the barracks, V'rel guiding them through a 'lesson' that's more a game of hide-and-seek. Near by and observing, but far enough away to be clear he's not directly involved, G'dri is leaning up against Khameth, the blue's attention riveted upon the babies.
Obsidian landed a few minutes ago in a rush of wings and the odd heavy thump, the riders' voices and cheerful heckling made simultaneously clear and soft by the fog. A period of silence save for the Weyrleader's voice ends with more wings, as most of the dragons lift for more hospitable skies. Dark clumps fade as their riders head for the caverns, but one shape grows more distinct: B'kaiv, heading for Khameth with the scowl that's become more common of late squarely in place. No Chielyth: she's heading back to her weyr, and a nap while Kai coils her straps. "Hey," he offers as greeting, meant to encompass both man and blue. "They're getting bigger." A nod for the barely-visible weyrlings.
"Morning," G'dri returns, mug lifted in a wave/salute of sorts once his attention has been caught by that 'hey.' Khameth drops his head briefly to rumble quietly in his own greeting, before fixing his gaze once more upon the bumblers, human as well as dragonet. "You'd think it would be easier to remember, just how fast they seem to grow in the first few months. And yet it always comes as a surprise." Shaking his head, and apparently trusting that Khameth will let him know if his help is suddenly required, he pushes away from the dark blue's shoulder and turns more fully to face Kai. "Should I even ask how the drilling went?"
"Yeah," the greenrider agrees, offering a pat for Khameth's muzzle and a twisted not-smile for his rider. It's the latter that he focuses on after turning an eye toward the impenetrable fog above. "Once we got outta this crap, weren't so bad. We went t' th' other side of th' mountains. T'kyn were saying, though, it stays this foggy later, we're gonna stick here and sharding well drill in it." A snort. "Like /that/ ain't asking for th' whole sharding wing in th' infirmary, but he's the sharding Weyrleader, ain't he."
G'dri looks a little pained by the end of that complaint, his brows drawn together in a frown he attempts to drown in klah. "If the wrong person overhears you," he begins mildly, "You're like to find yourself stuck on lift duty or worse, sitting on the wrong side of the desk in my office." Despite the caution in his voice, the look in his eyes is sympathetic. With as tricky as acoustics are, he still takes the risk to continue, "Though many would agree that the schedule he demands is extreme. Running your riders ragged is not how you keep them in top form."
B'kaiv says, "Yeah, and you don't think that'd be a nice change?" but he does lower his voice, at least a little. Foggy acoustics being what they are, it's hard to say how far his complaint travels. "I ain't th' only one complaining, neither." Another round of 'but he's the sharding weyrleader' goes unspoken before Kai drops a nod at a flash of tiny green wing. "You still want me showing 'em how t' throw punches? When you want me t' start?"
"Not particularly," G'dri is honest enough to say straight up. Tilting his head, he considers the greenrider for several seconds before asking, "So why haven't any of you spoken directly to him about it?" Hand lifted to forestall the obvious retort, "A good leader listens to the people he leads. I may not have ever /been/ one, but I've flown under a few and observed more. If enough of his wingriders protest, perhaps he will be convinced to rethink his approach." Ever the reasonable one, though enough of a realist that he doesn't actually sound particular hopeful. With his gaze turning to follow that nod, a smile quirking as laughter accompanied by a 'yes you found me!' drifts through the air, he replies, "I do, yes, though not for a couple months yet. The dragonets are as yet too young and easily distressed, and the weyrlings are often too distracted by them to properly focus. I won't risk injury to them, or to you."
B'kaiv scowls and snugs folded arms tighter, leaving that oh-so-sensible (if idealistic) question unanswered, especially after G'dri cuts him off. "Yeah, well," he says instead, acknowledging the thought behind it even as he -also- acknowledges the likely chance of that happening. Derisive, "/They/ ain't gonna do me no-- wait, you mean th' hatchlings, don'tcha." He squints over to see if he's judged it correctly. "I throw a punch, some little boy squalls, and his blue comes charging over, cuts me up on accident. I got you now. Well, you let me know. There's a couple in there as I told I'd show a few things, so I know 'em already."
A couple swallows of klah go down while Kai works that out aloud, G'dri grimacing as he lowers the mug. The grimace is likely enough for the taste, as he takes a step away before dumping the last bit of dark liquid to soak into the ground. "Exactly so," comes the verbal confirmation as he turns back again, though his eyes focus on the vague shapes of his charges in the not-so-far distance. "Once the world stops being quite so new and their minds have matured a little more, then they'll be ready." Glancing over, his smile this time is all for the greenrider. "That's good. If they're familiar with you ahead of time, and you with them, that should make it easier for you all. Less time needed to feel each other out, so the focus can be on learning what's needed." A pause. "If I haven't already said so, I've appreciated what you've been doing so far. The trays. I'm sure the weyrlings have as well."
"Klah's been bad, last seven," Kai sympathizes as he watches the mug emptied. "Tastes like they're using water from th' lake." He offers a hand to take it, though only for a moment, and then he nods after the weyrlings and turns to G'dri in time to catch the smile square on. "Yeah, well." He doesn't scuff a foot or color becomingly, but his return smile is decidedly crooked. "Ain't nothing," is probably about the trays. "I got time, and if she's sleeping, I ain't got no place t' go." "--You think he's gonna... you know? Next time? Or's he all still wrapped up in th' babies? Should be about five sevens from now," he adds helpfully.
"Shells," G'dri mutters, a word that's steadily becoming a more integral part of his vocabulary. Picking up bad habits, it would seem. "I hadn't thought--" There's that pained look again, and this time he can't even hide behind his mug. "If she invites him, as she has in the past, I believe that would be enough to capture his attention. I could prevent him...." He actually winces a little, casting a sidelong look towards Khameth who remains, to all appearances, utterly oblivious of the humans next to him. If the visual show is entertaining, the mental chatter must be fascinating -- for him, at least.
Kai winces as well, and isn't that an interesting rock wall over there, through the fog. "Shells. Yeah." There should be no question about the source of the Weyrlingmaster's slipping vocabulary. "Yeah, she probably... I can try and get her t' not, if you want? I mean, you know," he gestures at the shadowy forms before reknotting his arms, tight, "you got th' babies, and all, and it ain't like you got th' time t' go chasing. --Or waiting, after," he adds, voice low and reluctant.
About as interesting as Khameth's front left foot, truly! "He chases once, /maybe/ twice in a month. And since the hatching, he hasn't really been paying much attention to other adults. Chielyth, mostly, and Lisveth of course. Those two've been close ever since they cracked shell." A few other names join the list, a fellow blue and two browns Kai should recognise as being in Jasper. "And if he /does/...." G'dri sighs, rubbing at his jaw with the heel of his hand. "I don't like to deny him a chance." Not usually so discomfitted, the Weyrlingmaster pushes his hand higher, shoving his fingers into his hair. "We'll just have to see what happens, I suppose. Regardless... it's not like my weyr is such a long trek from the office. If...." He lets that trail off with a shrug.
B'kaiv sends a quick look over at the subject of this discussion, in case he's taking offense at being spoken about (or has anything to add in his defense). "Yeah. I just-- shells." Now he /does/ scuff a foot, but only to find a rock to kick, and keeps his eyes firmly upon it. "Dunno as I want t'--you know. Come marching over here and drag you outta whatever it is you're doing. Ain't fair t' th' weyrlings." Or discreet either, but he doesn't say that bit. "I just--I'll ask her t' not ask him. Maybe she'll forget, maybe he'll chase any road. S'gonna be half a turn until she goes up again."
G'dri's expression is a hard to describe combination of consternation and frustration, though Kai's among the few who can actually recognise it as being more than a simple need to burp. "We'll just have to see what happens," he repeats after several seconds have ticked past and no brilliant solution has walked up to hit either one of them over the head. "And work it out when we get there. I've never--" There's no outcry from the weyrlings outside, but Khameth's head lifts higher suddenly and he rumbles deep in his chest. "Ah shells. Leilani's having a time of it, again. I'm sorry, Kai, I have to see to it." As far as a farewell it's highly lacking, but that's all there's time for before the Weyrlingmaster hustles off to take care of whatever minor crisis is happening this time.
Shells. Shells, shells, shells. Wish I could just sharding get drunk, after. Or before, except that ain't far to her. Shells.