==== January 1st 2014
==== D'cen, Th'seus
==== Th'seus tracks D'cen down in the bowl, taps him for duties with Lynx.

Who D'cen, Th'seus
What Th'seus tracks D'cen down in the bowl, taps him for duties with Lynx.
When There are 0 turns, 3 months and 27 days until the 12th pass.
Where Upper Bowl

dcen1.jpg Th%27seus18.jpg


Upper Bowl
The graceful sweep of spacious bowl lies scoured clean by an easterly breeze. Detritus is whisked neat to the eastern steppe of the bowl that lies several feet lower than the western plateau. White walls contrast the rough granite of the rivercliffs: the giant maw of the Hatching Cavern lies in the thickest part of the western wall, sheltering the training grounds and weyrling barracks lying nor'west. Directly north lies the leadership courtyard, heavily humid and subtly scented by intrigue.

If you aren't participating in wing drills, you're bagging firestone tossing firestone sacks, or drilling with the rest of Catmint while in that super special holding pattern that many Senior Weyrlings find themselves in. Which, of course, accurately describes D'cen and Raxsonath. He still has the vague eau de firestone scent clinging to him while trudging across the upper bowl towards the /lower bowl/ and caverns. One swaggering bronze following behind while he flirts with -every- dragon he sees along the way.

Raxsonath better not be flirting with Vossuth. He's not his type. That and the whole, hatched from one of his eggs thing. The older bronze watches the younger from his resting spot in the bowl, silent disapproval at his offspring's antics. At least it's silent! From around the side of his settled lifemate, Th'seus appears, checking on some strap of leather or other. Alerted to their presence, he glances up and around until he spots sight of D'cen trudging by. "HEY!" He's far away. "WAIT UP." Just in case he was thinking of running, you know, he totally looks the type. And whether he does slow down further or not, he's loping along to catch up.

It wouldn't be beneath Raxsonath to flirt with another bronze. Not at all. But papa-bronze? He at least draws the line at that. He is also completely oblivious to silent disapproval, obviously, so he continues on his merryaking way. It's play time, not work time! Until Th'seus voice bellows across the bowl and both dragon and rider come to an abrupt halt. D'cen glances this way and that, cautiously, trying to ensure that he's the 'HEY' in question, before sort of standing there, twiddling his thumbs behind his back till the man is close enough to salute. "Afternoon, sir." Note that Rax has at least gone still and is paying attention. « He needs a nicer jacket. One to show off his shoulders. » The commentary earning him an elbow in the haunch from his human. "Cut that out." he whispers.

Just as Raxsonath is oblivious to Vossuth's silent brooding disapproval, Th'seus is similarly oblivious to Raxsonath's fashion advice. Though probably somewhere there's a goldrider agreeing with the sentiments on his clothes. Meanwhile, he'll just deliver an arched eyebrow to D'cen for that whisper. It's a questioning expression, but he must decide that's not directed at him. "Yeah, afternoon." Slowing down to a more sane walk, he falls into pace with the teenager. "So look, I need another bronze in my wing and you're not tapped yet. Interested?" Apparently he doesn't subscribe to the same cat and mouse games the other wingleader's are enjoying, torturing the weyrlings they're tapping.

D'cen doesn't bother with an innocent whistle. Nope! He jerks a thumb back towards his lifemate in a 'throw him under the wagon' sort of way. "I wind up saying that a lot." he admits, hands clasped behind his back while they walk. "Huh. Sure. Works for me." He apparently is equally as blunt and to the point. He was probably one of the only weyrlings that didn't go out and interview everyone and agonize over where -he- wanted to go. "Lynx's the wing that does all that extra stuff for the Weyrleader, if I remember right. Do I remember right?"

"Oh-" Th'seus glances over his shoulder to direct a look at the young bronze. "I see. That's good to know in any case." Because being in the middle of drills and hearing 'cut that out' with no context would probably be troublesome. And with the asking and accepting out of the way, there's just the discussing of other things. Doesn't seem to bother him that Lynx wasn't at the top (or bottom) of D'cen's list. "Right. It varies depending on what Q'fex wants to do or needs us to do. It's been quiet more recently but it could pick up when the Pass more officially begins." Freak threadfalls aside. "Despite rumors we don't spend all our time fetching ice. You were Starcraft before you impressed?"

"Some days, fetching ice sounds like a nice side trip though." D'cen is quick to point out! Like when it's freaky humid out. "Shells, some days it'd be nice to just sprawl out on a slab of ice instead of the.. you know, jungle blanket of heat." That's right. Someone's not a fan of the weather. Come to think of it, doesn't the weather everywhere just pretty much suck? His mind starts wandering in that direction when he snaps his attention back to the Wingleader. "I was. Actually, I was working on getting a set of charts done for Southern as part of a Journeyman project. I have to tell you it's been very unsettling not knowing why projections on when the red star would be in range were so far off. I've been in touch with the Hall, but…" Nuthin so far.

"Well, when we do have to fetch," That actually does happen? "I'll be sure to leave you in charge of that particular expedition. Since you like it so much." Though now Th'seus might be giving him a slightly dubious expression. Seems he's not a fan of laying out on ice slabs. "Did you stop working on them completely or is it just in limbo? You'll have more free time now as a full rider than you did before." He doesn't seem entirely surprised that no substantial news has come from the Hall. "Keep in touch with them. You never know what could turn up and it doesn't hurt to keep those connections. Southern can use all that it can get."

D'cen just snorts lightly, apparently thinking that Th'seus is kidding. WHAT A KIDDER HE IS! Ahem. "I kept copies, and passed on the bulk of the work to the person they sent down to replace me. But it'll be nice to pick up on it again. As you say, with the free time.." In fact, he perks up considerably at the idea. Expect a return to vampire-starcrafter time. At least, as much of a return as he can manage. His night-owl days of nerdism can begin again!" The lack of surprise is noted though, with a side-eyed glance. As is the advice about keeping in touch with them. "I will. Maybe looking at my old notes, and comparing them to the new observations will prove fruitful. See if there's something to indicate a shift in the past normal progression of th red star in the year leading up to a Pass." He may like spawling on ice slabs, but at least he doesn't sound like a -total- idiot.

"Good. Keep up with it when you can. I'd like to keep our wing stocked with smart people, intellectuals. I'm sure as fuck not." So apparently D'cen has some sort of pass to be weird and nerdy all he wants, it's even… encouraged? "Plus you might have a grasp on some things the rest of us don't in regards to threadfall patterns and the timing. Feel free to you know, share that around if you get the opportunity." The offer to join the wing may have sounded rather abrupt, but perhaps there was more throught given to it than that. He sidesteps around an approaching resident, apologizing as they go.

All of this, of course, means Rax is going to be working overtime to try and get D'cen a social life. One can almost feel the sigh emanate right from his hide when it sinks in for D'cen that he's just gotten a free pass to roll around in his nerddom like a rich man rolls around in a pile of marks. "Well, you're a Wingleader. So you've gotta have something going on there." And where Th'seus sidesteps, D'cen almost plows into someone and looks surprised by it. His mumbled apology is obviously… distracted. "Sure, of course. I can do that. Predicting threadfall patterns is part of what we help with. So I should be able to give you a heads up on what we've got coming."

« Kiss your hopes and dreams good-bye. » Vossuth, killer of expectations. Killer of joy. That's his response to the subtle reaction rolling off of Raxsonath. There's even a tiny hint of entertainment there, he enjoys this. "Sure, I got something up here. But it's not the same as what you've got or what Jedi's got or anything like that. Not that it's bad or not as good, just different. I think you're going to be real useful, kid." Tolerant amusement crosses his face when he nearly plows into that stranger. "Now, I've got your first assignment for you. Since you're a full rider and a wing member and everything."

« Never! » Raxosnath, warrior of … well, something. He's a warrior of something dammit. He'll find a way! "Thank you sir. I won't disappoint you." Which probably means that eventually he will. He totally will. He'll just be trying real hard not to! Tolerant amusement might well be the default for the next few years as he grows out of total awkward nerd into slightly less awkward but still nerdy nerd. It's an evolution. He has the decency to look a little flustered, at least. "An assignment? Right, an assignment! What do you need me to do?"

"Hey, even if you do? Just remember there's always someone worse out there." Which means… what exactly? Probably just that D'cen won't be a huge mark on his radar if he does mess something up, perhaps. Th'seus slows to a stop and there's a gentle lift of his shoulder. "When you see that S'yn kid around, you know, the ten-turn old, tap him." The young weyrling isn't actually ten. But there's certainly an undercurrent of reluctance when it comes to mentioning him and a not-so-subtle attitude that this isn't something the bronzerider would like to discussin all its details. It just is.

D'cen can't help the bit of a laugh that erupts. Yay for there always being someone worse out there! When his assignment is meted out though, there's a brief furrow of brow and a slightly curious expression. One that he gets rid of at the obvious 'we are totally not discussing this' wave that's floatin' off of Th'seus there. "I can do that, sure. It'll be fun." In that non-turturous way of course.

Th'seus should go join a motivational speaking team. He grins a little crookedly at D'cen's response and again, there's a shrug of his shoulders. But there's no further details given up about the young rider's tapping to come. "Great. Don't drag it out on him too much." Not that he looks like the kind of guy to do that anyway, but. Maybe it's a requirement that he say that. "I should get back to Vossuth. He wants those straps off something bad." How anyone would ever tell that is a mystery, as the bronze sits straight like a statue in the background.

"No sir. I'm not much for that sort of thing. Probably because I'd be no good at all at it. Seems like it requires a degree of social skill I don't have." D'cen both agrees and admits. « Yet. Don't have the social skill yet » Patting Raxsonath's hide with affectionate comforting there, he smirks before glancing between Vossuth and Th'seus. "Huh. Well, we don't want him annoyed or anything. I'll let you know how it goes. See you soon, sir. Thank you." And with that, he is also off (at a certain bronze's insistence) to find something other then the weyrling uniform to wear.

"You can string words together. You'll do alright." Th'seus begins to set off back across the bowl. As for his lifemate, there's outright laughter before shaking his head, amused. "I'm not sure he knows what not being annoyed is like. But thanks, good luck with that thing." The whole tapping thing. Somewhere there's an impatient rumble from Vossuth, the demand for him to return and complete that task they were working on. That long loping stride that brought him to D'cen, brings him back to where he came from.

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