====October 29, 2013
====G'deon, Q'fex
====G'deon comes to Q'fex with a request.

Who G'deon, Q'fex
What G'deon comes to Q'fex with a request.
When Summer, 10 months and 9 days until the 12th Pass
Where Council Room, Southern Weyr

Gid02.png qfex_7.jpg


Council Room

An open room, with oddly-tiled floors: is that a chessboard?

Towards the end of the working day, Q'fex has started the process of loosening the top button on his shirt, rolling up the sleeves, kicking his feet into the next chair over. He's got ONE LAST HIDE in front of him, and he's apparently wasting away whatever the remainder of his office marks are, staring broodily at it like it is actually something important. The council room is deserted by now, even Renalde having taken his leave to go check on the cooks and the progress of dinner.

It is into this quiet end of day process that G'deon intrudes, and likely not without reason. He's been where Q'fex is sitting, after all… metaphorically speaking. The older rider is dressed simply, lacking any obvious gear aside from a wide riding belt and his knot. While he wouldn't be an entirely unfamiliar face at this point, plus having introduced himself shortly after arriving, interaction has probably been minimal until now, so it probably unsurprising that he hesitates upon entering the council room. Finally, he straightens his back and calls over, "Q'fex, sir? I was wondering if I could have a word with you. I promise it will not take long."

Metaphorically speaking. Dark eyes flick over the top of the hide, and expression warms somewhat — perhaps it is merely a live body to keep him company, or perhaps it is the presence of someone that perhaps isn't likely to immediately cause him great deals of consternation. "G'deon," he's too lazy to rise, but he gesture negligently over across-the-way, "Please join me." And then, with that same gestured-hand, "And don't call me sir. You were leading weyrs before I was making my da's pants uncomfortable." The light jest is accompanied by a light smile. "It doesn't feel right." Q'fex, at least, has this respect-thy-elders bit down.

The jest is both caught and successful, as G'deon's dark blue eyes light up with amusement, and a smile crinkles his face. "Fair enough," he says, bowing his head slightly before moving to take the offered seat. "I wanted to thank you again for allowing Nylanth and I to join your Weyr. People here have been quite welcoming, and, unlike some of the places I've visited, it feels like we might have an upper hand whenever Thread begins to fall again." He folds his hands loosely and studies them for a moment before looking up at Q'fex again. "I will just get to the point. I'm sure you're busy. I would like to join your weyrlingmaster staff. It is not something I've done before, but I have decades' worth of dragonhealer training, not to mention some other tidbits of experience. And now, with my only remaining child here but broken, I feel—." His voice falters subtly as he looks away toward the other hides. "I would like to… teach again."

Q'fex grins back at G'deon, a roguish expression of shared spirit. "Thank you. It is a pleasure and a honor to have you here with us." The weyrleader leans back and contemplates the elder bronzerider as he speaks, and it's true — his eyebrows lift a little at the request. "Do you think you'll have a problem working under a male greenrider? I know that you oldtimers profess to not having nearly so many… issues as my brethren of this time do, but," he hesitates, "Just to make sure. If that isn't an issue, I have no issues. You have more knowledge in your pinky than most the rest of us do in — well, at least our whole hand." Another of those wry lip-quirks.

G'deon can only smile at Q'fex's concern and quickly shakes his head in answer, and on the tail end of the weyrleader's last words, Gid gives him a full-out smile. "Thank you. I suppose I'm feeling the march of time breathing down my neck. Best get that knowledge back out before it dies with me." Said lightly, pragmatically. He is a child of the Pass, and it shows. "As for a greenrider, male or otherwise, I have no issues with that. Here it might be out of place, but where I come… came from, skill and instinct trumped sex and a dragon's hide every time."

Q'fex lightens visibly at G'deon's answer. "Good," the man says, quietly, perhaps even a little introspectively. "There have been quite a few who have… questioned the decision of putting Ja'kai in his current position, but I have always felt that you pick the man suited for the job, not the man that everyone thinks is suited for the job. There is, I've learned, quite a gulf between ability and the perception of ability." His voice, droll. It isn't droll as he baldly states: "You are the man best suited for the job of teaching weyrlings, G'deon. It would add an… incredible edge, for our weyrlings, to hear from someone who has actually risen to meet real Thread." His jaw firms. "An edge they'll need." Regret wars with determination.

"Isn't that how Holders have remained in place so long?" G'deon replies in mild jest regarding abilities. He also sobers quickly, however, and nods his thanks for the compliment. "Thank you. That means a great deal to me." He begins to gather himself as if to stand, then stops. "On the subject of Thread… would you have any interest sitting down at some point and going over some of the specific training we once did? And preparations? Though Hannah might be a better voice on the latter, training the weyrfolk and all that."

"It has to be." Lightly replied to tht mild jest. Q'fex inclines his chin deeply at the thanks delivered — "No thanks required. Thank you for offering." The darkhaired man cards a hand through his hair, eyes going distant, and then: "Yes. I would. It would be useful to vet the… shift in formations. I've heard from several of my Ocelot riders that there are differences in how we do it now versus how it used to be. I'd rather take the best of both worlds."

"I would love to," G'deon replies brightly, standing finally. "In the end, so much of it depends on the ever-changing wind, but most of all on how well the riders are trained. And sometimes what works in theory…" He trails off and just smiles, hands held wide. No need to explain further. "It pays to be open-minded. Perhaps over dinner or drinks some evening? I hear there are some delightful wines in this age that I have not yet had a chance to test." With blue eyes sparkling all the while. "A good wine is one of my great loves in life," he admits, a wider grin crinkling his crow's feet and laugh lines. "I assume you already have flamethrowers and the like on the way?"

"That would be excellent," Q'fex replies with alacrity. "Br'er — have you met Br'er? — can procure us something particularly exotic. I'll see to it." He does rise, a little belatedly after G'deon. "Wine…" He pauses, and ruefully shakes his head. "Whiskey is my personal demon. Wine has always seemed so much more mellow." Except when he gets DRUNK on some sweet white goodness. But we don't talk about that kind of stuff, right? "Yes. The Smithcraft, at least, has plenty of agenothree… unlike the situation with the firestone." His grimace is silver-quick but bitter-limned.

Smile fades to a look of concern as G'deon reacts to the bit about firestone. "Well. We do still have time, last I looked at the Red Star." But is that a hint of worry in his voice? "I will always try a good whiskey, too, though it is very much because of the mellow that I have always enjoyed a nice wine. Nothing too sweet, but… well." He waves off his own thought and smiles again. "In any case, plenty to talk about. But later. I wish you a very pleasant evening Q'fex." He does not salute, but there is something just as formal about his nod of farewell before he turns for the exit.

There's a hint of worry in anyone's voice familiar enough with the logistics of how much firestone dragons can go through in a hard Pass. Q'fex's grim expression doesn't rise immediately, but he shakes it off after a moment. "Plenty to talk about," the bronzerider agrees, formally returning that nod, just so, precise. "You too, G'deon. Thank you," he calls after the older man. "I'll let Ja'kai know."

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