==== December 8, 2013
==== A'lory, W'rin
==== A'lory returns and has a conversation with W'rin. Fingers are pointed. Little is resolved.

Who A'lory, W'rin
What A'lory returns and has a conversation with W'rin. Fingers are pointed. Little is resolved.
When 6 months and 9 days until the 12th pass
Where Igen weyr



Oasis Inn
Tucked into a small fold of foothills along the road leading from the Weyr to the Central Pass, this inn truly is just what its name implies - an oasis for travelers coming from either direction. Stabling and board are available - though the boarding comes at a price, since there isn't much of it. The most well known part of the Inn is the tavern - a rustic bar built of solid skybroom and furnished in dark, oiled wood, leather, metal, and glass. Though well used and sometimes abused, the furniture is also well cared for and maintained, and the food and drink draw many a rider in alongside the travelers. The decor is eclectic, consisting in hangings, rugs, carvings, and other things from every region of Pern, bestowed upon the owner in barter for lodging. The atmosphere isn't one of a dive; it's cozier than that, though there //is just a touch of harmless shady to be found - particularly in the evenings.//

Light is slipping away outside the Oasis Inn, but the heat lingers, and so W'rin is settled in his usually place by the hearth. But the fireplace lacks its usual flickering flames. Charts are of course his only companion at the moment, charts and a glass of whiskey.

The lingering heat drives before it the thirsty and the exhausted, a cruel taskmaster that is ever relentless in its own mindless way. And look: it's driven even A'lory to seek shelter and a cool drink in the Oasis Inn. The tender is well used to his ways by now, and simply pours his drink as soon as he appears. Drink in hand, he surveys the place, looking for a seat.

It doesn't take long for W'rin to feel the looks coming from about the room. The place, at this hour, only freckled with regulars who are confused by the appearance of the weyrsecond who doesn't make his way directly to the weyrleader. Peering up over a chart, the lumbering man, takes in the lankier one for a moment. Only going so far as to lift his glass in greeting before returning to the work before him.

A'lory supposes the veneer of their usual comraderie must be maintained; it's politics — and morale-supporting. So he wanders over, drink in hand, and stops with a grunt at the man's work-laden table. A scant glance is given to an empty chair before butt is planted in it. Yup. That happened.

Clearly W'rin didn't give a shit, but here is the man now. And as bony ass meets cushioned chair the man looks up again. Brows pulled, his mouth opens to say something but he shuts it again, looks about awkwardly for a moment and then goes back to work. At least he places the chart on the table so the formation can be seen.

"So this is awkward." Let A'lory begin with the obvious — it will certainly have to be cleared up before too long. "Why do we not just get it out of the way? There are pressing matters." Like formations and the menace of Thread. Stretching out his legs, clad in the familiar gray leather, he squints into his glass as though it holds the key to the universe or something. It fails him that way, so he opts to take a drink instead. "We have to figure this thing out."

The weyrleader grunts without looking up, "You mean we both admit we were stubborn assholes and didn't give each other enough credit and we move on with our jobs, or you really do think I am out to screw all the oldtimers and you leave your know." The whiskey is sipped, and resettled on the top of his thigh. "So…" His eyes finally lift, "What do you think?"

"I think," A'lory begins amiably, swirling his drink about in his glasd. "We both stop making assumptions regarding the thoughts of others, open our ears, and try for some understanding. Plainly something is off, and I for one prefer to fix it." There's something to be said for a Craft-trained man: there's always curiosity behind every action.

"It seems the best course of action." W'rin nods slowly, "Something we could both work on." The two need some serious couples counciling but this will have to do for now. Clearing his throat it seems the question, for him at least, is settled. "So then."

"Fact." A'lory drinks to that. Ah, whiskey: a steadfast companion. "So. If I understand you correctly, you feel responsibility for the Weyr at large — and wish cohesiveness from all. I have no issue with that and never have." There is a long pause, then, as he eyes that conveniently placed chart. But to continue: "My concern is the tactics. It's… rather giving me much in the way of stress."

"Of course I do, A'lory. What do you take me for?" W'rin's handed his entire life over to the weyr, and as his brows pull downward once more he buries his gaze in the charts before him. "Tactics? Tactics?" W'rin shakes his head, "So I yell a lot. Better than being a push over. I'm not here to coddle any fightin' dragon." And if Whirlwind is any proof, it has worked.

" I take you for a man who is failing to take into account the difference between cultures." A'lory begins, quietly. "Failing to understand that the Traditions in this time are not how it has always been. The current structure is not necessarily correct. And meeting a suggestion of change with hostility does not inspire trust or loyalty with Oldtimers. You asked us here to help. We came to do so. In order to get that help, you're going to have to make room for us to put forth our skills in unusual ways. Screaming bronze priviledge? No. We trained according to skill and inclination, not color."

"Make room for?" W'rin's eyebrows etch upward, "And you think I haven't? I would ask you to think of somethings. Like just because your traditions are different doesn't mean they are better either. But I see a whole lot of people not taking that into account. And I train based on skill as well, but you didn't have thread to contend with. So shits going to be a little different. But if you'll recall I've been plenty happy to put people where they fit. If you'd take a look at our weyrlingmaster staff as proof." Not only green, but also female. "I never said anything about shouting and color A'lory. You draw that in where it doesn't belong."

"Yes, make room for." A'lory confirms. "And I never said 'better'. Nobody's saying one is better than the other — merely that we are heartily sick of being asked to ignore longstanding, prevailing attitudes that we must forever be wrong. You don't see it. You don't hear it, but I do. Think about it — you damn near attacked Trek for even suggesting an idea that doesn't fit your idea of how a wing should operate. And you have yet to deal with Thread as well, so how do you know your way is correct? All I am suggesting, here, is that when a rider approaches you with an idea, you listen instead of accusing them of sinister motives. You want trust and loyalty? Earn it. Putting Sienna in as weyrlingmaster doesn't prove as much as you may think." A'lory sighs, lifting a shoulder carelessly. "Look, man, you know you've constantly asked us to uphold attitudes — whether yours or someone else's — that would prevent women from truly helping and proving their intentions. At some point, you have to ask yourself why is it you asked our help? Do we or do we not have sufficient knowkedge to be incorporated? The prevailing attitudes have lost us two queens already. It's time to force the Weyr to look at itself and ask what needs to change, not cling tighter to ways that are simply not working."

"I was having a conversation with Trek. I didn't get angry until her motives did get sinister. All I'm suggesting is that instead of assuming what she told you was exactly the truth of how stuff went down you might want to take into consideration that I started yelling when she started blacking mailing the fucking weyr." W'rin's arms cross over his chest, "Well if it doesn't then perhaps its time for you to look a little deeper. And yah, you are just as high on your fucking runner as everyone's opinions who you dislike. This has nothing to do with women - I'd have happily put a brownrider who earned it in to a wingleaders place. We didn't have a fucking opening. There are only so many leadership positions. Of course you guys have knowledge we could incorporate but instead of coming to me with it she comes with letters from an x-lover." W'rin laughs softly, lacking any amusement, "Vergora was her own fault, that had nothing to do with attitudes and you kow it. And Corelle, well - that was more likely the bazaar than any oldtimer." Not that anything was proven one way or the other. "Don't go shoving that shit in my face. And as you've seen, or could if you took a look around instead of only seeing what you want, you'd see I'm not clinging to anything that doesn't need to be clung to. Green and blues can't fly a full thread. Can Trek make a go of it with rotating wingseconds? Maybe. But that doesn't mean it is the best way. And just because some people think they 'deserve' leadership doesn't mean they do." With a heaved sigh he puts his hands on his tighs. "When you have a suggestion on how to fix the problem. And you aren't just looking to lay the blame on everyone but yourselves come see me. I mean it. If you have any practical suggestions bring them to me. They will be listened to. I might take them all, but I've always listened to you." And with that he lifts himself up, to head out.

A'lory snorts. "After you began screaming at her. Naturally, she did. Hell, man, what'd you expect? You treated her like shit, and you know it. And let's be frank: there's no guarantee that Eisheth can make a full fall, and he's larger than your bronze. I am trying to get you to see beyond your tiny field of vision, not place blame. Was her route to her goal the best way? Perhaps not. You damn well wouldn't have bothered if she hadn't! Funny, you think you deserve to be respected for bullying to get your way — how's it working?" A'lory rises, letting his drink hit the table almost too gently. "The place is still divided along party lines! You share the blame along with everyone else, here; don't fool yourself into thinking otherwise. You want practical solutions? Then sit your ass down with Trek and listen to her reasoning. I sure as hell did and found out some very interesting things. Start listening to others. Forget what you think is true. I sure as hell had to! We're not going to survive Fall going at it ass backwards and at each other's throats over this.'

"You got the direction of that wrong, A'lory. The screamin' came after. But believe what you want." W'rin growls softly, "Bullyin' everyone? Are you crazy? Of course I yelled at her when she said she'd go to him. I had every right to be angry she'd sell this place out like that. All for a fuckin' knot." His thumb shoves into his own chest, "I do not. I've never given a shit about any of it. You play the party lines, A'lory. And you'd do well to take all this crap you've been thrownin' at me and take a long hard look at yourself. And don't pretend like you've forgotten what you think is true. She's welcome to come sit down and talk any time she wants. If she leaves my fucking past out of it. She wants to be a real wingleader she'd better learn to talk - I won't treat her different than I treat any of the other ones. If only cause I expect the others to respect her. And Faranth knows that's been a struggle. But I've been fuckin' doing it. Tell her to make an appointment." Gathering up the charts he snorts, "We all have stuff we need to work on A'lory. ALL of us." A pointed look. "I'm done with this particular conversation. You got any more ideas. Come see me. But it’s time to move past this blame game. Either we're working forward or you're stuck at this point in time."

"Assuming she even wanted it in the first place. Or did you assume she was asking for herself? Whatever, man. You believe what you want; I've seen how you behave when you get challenged. You expect respect, you fucking learn to give it. I believe you both fucked up. I've had my say with her — this conversation was about you. Tell you what," A'lory pulls his jacket on and steps away from the table. "You figure out why you think you deserve my respect and come to me about it — I'll let you know whether you've earned it from me or not. Because you're losing it, step by step. You fucked up by letting this kind of thing happen where it could be used. Deal with the consequences of it, and suck it the hell up."

W'rin sighs and shaking his head walks out of the Inn.

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