==== September 3, 2013
==== C'zan, W'rin
==== W'rin runs into his wingsecond on the beach, challenges are issued. (Started a while ago but I suck, so if some of the info seems dated, that is why.)

Who C'zan, W'rin
What W'rin runs into his wingsecond on the beach, challenges are issued. (Started a while ago but I suck, so if some of the info seems dated, that is why.)
When 1 turn 5 months and 27 days until the 12th pass
Where Igen Weyr



Lake Shore

It’s early morning, but not too early, and C’zan is taking advantage of the clear skies to sit down by the lake shore. He’s found himself a nice flat spot, and spread out a blanket to sit on. Arranged around him are hides, corners held down by rocks, and he taps each page as he looks at it, studying. There is a slight, noticeable shake to his hand, and there are dark circles under his eyes. Khallth looks on, lying flat to the ground, head tilted so that he can see the hides as well. If there is any conversation going on between the two, then it’s silent.

And who should enter from the far stretches of the sand, but W’rin? His early morning, post drills, run carrying him roughly down the shore line, just out of reach of the waves as they lap against the beach. It is the only thing that would bring him here, no fan of the water himself, nor caring about good views while working, but the giving ground gives an extra workout and while his pace is steady and demanding, it is clear from the dripping perspiration he has been at it for a while. However, his steady course is deterred when he spots his wingsecond working on the shore line. Pulling to a stop as he crosses the brownrider’s path he pulls to a stop. “Morning, C’zan. How’s it going?” A smile graces the man’s face for a moment, before fading into a huffed breath.

Khallth hisses a welcome to the approaching bronzerider, and C’zan looks from up from note studying with a curious look which fades into a peculiar sort of welcoming blankness. He doesn’t rise, but his salute is as crisp as his shaking hands will allow. “Wingleader,” he acknowledges, before adding. “It’s going. Thought I would study some of the formation notes.” There is a faint hint of a smile. “Khal may be confident that he could fly them backwards, but not I. Enjoying your run?”

Though shaking hands are openly studied for a moment, the wingleader says nothing for now. “I’m sure you could both fly them backwards, though, good to stay sharp.” He would pour over them himself, if he wasn’t busy working with them all day anyway. He considers his wingsecond for a moment, thoughtfully deciding in the awkward pause how to approach this new relationship. Opting for how it should function, in a less dysfunctional wing, he closes the distance between himself and where the man is working. “Not as much as usual, sometimes shit gets so fucked up even a workout can’t clear the mind..” It is a softly growled philosophical statement about life.. “Maybe a hunt is in order, A’lory’s been itching for one. You want to join this time?” A hand scratching at his beard, causing droplets of sweat to flee from beneath massive paw. And as long as blunt honesty is going to be tried for he nods his head towards the man’s hands. “You holding up alright?”

C’zan doesn’t mind awkward pauses in conversation, and he takes advantage of the silence to adjust one of the rocks to stop the edge of one of the hides flapping about. Khallth watches W’rin for his rider instead. “Clearing the mind was what alcohol used to be for,” C’zan half agrees with the philosophical statement, with his own twist on it. “I’d certainly like to give it a try, how about you, Khal?” and it’s quite casual, the way that C’zan asks his dragons opinion. But then W’rin notices the shaking hands. To his credit, C’zan manages not to sit on them out of embarrassment. “Today is one of those bad days,” he explains. “It’s no worse than it has been in the past.”

“You should.” W’rin offers to both dragon and rider. “It’s not a bad way to get a sense of things.” Puts things in perspective. “Sometimes I think better when I’ve worked out all the energy.” Usually angry energy. As far as the honesty of the brownrider the wingleader only nods with a grunt. “They at least not as often?” The bad days that is. Involved in the conversation now, he glances down at the charts. “Things are improving.” A shift from the man to their wing, and they are, little by little. With those too lazy to try or follow rules dismissed from the wing, and in almost all cases the weyr, and those whether naturally talented or not being pushed to just before their limits there have been step by step improvements, and P’rask being moved to permanent Sandblast firestone tosser. “Any thoughts?” A vague question, really open to any sort of constructive thoughts for the wing.

It has been drilled into C’zan that W’rin likes honesty. Respectful honesty. “Early mornings and late nights are the worst,” C’zan admits. “But Khal gets me through them,” and the brown gently butts his rider, before looking W’rin’s way again. “I never thought that Sandblast could amount to what we’ve become,” he admits, half sheepish. “We might actually be considered non-laughable now.” After these random thoughts, C’zan thinks about the vague question, giving it the consideration that it deserves, then he chuckles. “Khal says he likes the idea of the hunt. Bonding for the wing.”

W’rin nods, he respects honesty, and though he can’t change that particular thing for the brownrider he can offers a grunt of sympathy. “It’s slow, but it’ll get better.” Or so he’s heard. The giant man shrugs his shoulders, “Most of us aren’t that bad.” He speaks inclusively of Sandblast now, “Just never had a wingleader worth a fuck.” The sentence spit out in disgust. “I’ll never be able to understand a man who’d put his own feelings in front of people’s lives.” Q’fex earns nothing but disdain from the man. “The wing? Oh, usually it’s just a few of us guys. You know. some male bonding.” He pauses, considering the man’s words carefully, “But maybe it should be Sandblast. The partners are doing pretty well.” Minus a few hiccups, but once everyone got past the punches it’s been relatively smooth sailing. “Bring us back to bond as a whole.” His lips draw downward in a thoughtful frown. “Good idea, C’zan.”

The sympathy is appreciated, and acknowledged with a bob of the brownriders head. “Day at a time,” he notes, with a faint quirk of a smile. Q’fex was his wingleader, his drinking buddy, and it’s not really C’zan’s style to badmouth a bronzerider to another bronzerider. So he simply makes a bit of a noncommittal noise at W’rin’s words about Sandblasts former wingleader. “P’rask might surprise us with his abilities in the jungle,”

“P’rask? P’rask can carry our shit.” W’rin grumbles with a chuckle, as he clasps a hand over the opposing forearm. “I like the guy, but I’m not going to send him into a jungle to fly, when he can barely make it in open space.” His lips curl up in a dry grin. “Especially, when K’vvan got cornered by one last time. Man, if that had been P’rask probably would have been a dead Blaster. But yah, we’ll make it a wing thing.” Even if the giant man will have some trepidations about sending the girls into the jungles to kill felines that are likely bigger than they are. Pairs. No one goes anywhere without their buddy.

C’zan sniggers under his breath at the mental image of P’rask crashing into trees. “Less damage to be done carrying stuff again,” he agrees. “Unless he drops it in a river or something.” Think the worst of P’rask, and then you won’t be surprised. The brownrider does shudder though at the thought of being eaten by a feline. Not at all pleasant. “Could always get Whirlwind to play judge?” he suggests. “Does two scrawny felines beat one,” he shoots a quick look at W’rin. “Bigger than you?”

W’rin shrugs sharply, “Ain’t so bad at carry’n shit. Or tossing firestone.” Which is why he’s been tossing firestone during drills to Blasters. Their very own ball boy. With a snorted chuckle he nods, “A few. But almost all of them would be bigger than, say, Alys.” He grumbles softly, “No use in a half eaten rider. Rather you guys whole.” With a raised brow, he looks at the man, “Two would be better at huntin’ I guess. Aren’t getting afraid are ya?” A challenging grin is shot at the man.

“One hell of an arm on him,” C’zan agrees. “Think you could kill a feline by throwing firestone at it?” Just feel the love for P’rask, or at least the desire to have in flight entertainment. At the challenging grin, Khallth makes a hissing noise that might be his draconic laughter, and twists his head to look straight on at W’rin. C’zan buries his head in his hands. Whatever he mutters is muffled by his hands.

Khallth reaches out to Valiuth, pebbles dancing in his mental wasteland, an echo of his physical laughter. «You and yours against me and mine?» he asks. «Friendly?»

W’rin is quiet, very quiet, for a good long minute, head bent and fingers digging into the hairs at the nape of his neck. He’s considering the idea with a certain sense of seriousness. “Maybe. Be fun to find out.” Is answered as he head lifts with a massive tilt of a grin. At the dragon’s challenge the big man’s grin smooths out to smile. There is something reassuring about his wingsecond, or at least his dragon, challenging him. It is what men do. “Next rest day.” And with that settled, what more is there to talk about? And the man sets off back up the shore line.

Valiuth’s entery into the mindscape is far from gentle, the crashing of waves against his old wooden ship fills the air. The excitement causing him to forget the browns unease in the murky depths of his mind. « A challenge of men! A challenge of hunters! We accept so noble a cause. »

Don’t mind the embarrassed C’zan, although he does pull himself back together long enough for a parting salute. “Next rest day.” He watches the departing W’rin with a faint look of panic on his features, before he turns his attention to Khallth. Time for a talking to.

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