D'wane, F'kan, L'xan, R'zel, Bailey (cameo)


F'kan is given his punishment. (Backscened.)


It is afternoon of the twentieth day of the first month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.


Council Room, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 30 Sep 2017 23:00




Council Room

Spacious, this room is cut from the same scale as the living caverns: vast and given to inspiring awe for those who enter. The floor is tiled in a shining cross-hatch of dark and light, an ironic chessboard setting for the looming and overlarge council table. Weathered it is, long and rectangular, with a matching sideboard twice again as long as it is. This is a room for meetings, for work, for decisions: such is evident by the hearth in the corner, and the always-fresh pot of klah.

JUDGEMENT DAY IS HERE AT LAST!!! Actually, judging has probably been happening constantly since F'kan got caught sleeping with a candidate. Today however, the powers that be have finally decided on an appropriate punishment and they are all (aside from K'vvan who had another emergency to deal with) gathering in the Council Room to take care of this very serious business. And D'wane is looking very serious indeed as he sits near the head of the table (which will presumably be L'xan's seat). The big wingsecond is just going to cross his arms and stare real hard at the doorway as he waits for F'kan. Maybe he's practicing ESP and trying to see if he can set the door on fire with his mind.

R'zel arrives in company with F'kan. Whether that's as escort, guard or moral support - or some combination - isn't entirely clear. The younger wingsecond is looking as serious as his colleague, but at least he produces a sympathetic smile as he gestures the wingrider towards a seat. He nods to D'wane, then settles down in a chair on the other side of the top of the table

No fire, nor errant brownrider comes from D'wanes attempts at ESP, what does come however is the bulky form of Southerns Weyrleader, his ususally sunny features clouded over in an expression that is both irritated…and a little not at all surprised. Seeing as he is the last to arrive, he takes the big important seat at the end, and literally does this face :| as a seat is offered to all. "Right then. Shall we?" the lightness in his voice is a mockery of his usual cheer

F'kan takes a seat across from the table in the Council Room where he was indicated to sit by R'zel. He tries his best to look serious, his lips trained in a straight line, looking down deferently until he hears L'xan come in, and his blue eyes go wide. The Weyrleader? Oh Fuck. He looks up at the table, at all the serious faces there, and he might actually start to look nervous. He clears his throat in rediness to whatever is coming his way.

So D'wane might not be a firestarter, but he does have a firebreathing telepathic dragon, so he can probably live with that fact. As soon as F'kan arrives, he's getting the full focus of the stare, at least until L'xan comes in. Then the bronzerider does break away enough to give L'xan a very official looking salute and a nod when the leader asks if they should start. "F'kan, you know why you're here?" Said as if the answer should be painfully obvious. Because really, it is.

L'xan stares at F'kan expectantly.

Meanwhile outside, Rocketh stares at Quaverilth expectantly.

Quaverilth says, «This is all him.»

Which is WAY more reassuring than the way Nokteryth is leeeeering at his son.

F'kan clears his throat before speaking, is it suddenly dry in here or is it just him. "Yes Sirs. I know why we are here. I was found with a Candidate in a compromising situation." He says in an even voice, if a bit scratchy, his mouth is so dry. He tries to swallow past the lump growing in his throat, but the feeling of unease settles firmly upon him.

<Southern Weyr> Verokanth senses that: The sudden splash of that wave on the beach is so derisive it could almost be considered a snort. « What? Are you a hatchling that can't keep your's in line when you need to, Quaverilth? » (Rocketh)

L'xan's eyebrows shoot all the way up into those sandy bangs that really need a trim. "That is one way of putting it." He sounds almost calm, but it's the kind of calm that comes from turns and turns of repressing a great deal of anger. "From what I've read it was a great deal more than a singular 'compromising position.'" Because the Weyr runs on paperwork, and L'xan sees most of it.

R'zel rises politely when the Weyrleader enters, though he subsides into his chair again as soon as L'xan sits, and leaves the saluting bit to D'wane. He turns an expectant look on F'kan, and there's tension evident in the way that he sits, leaning forward slightly. Still, the question wasn't addressed to him so he keeps silence until the brownrider has answered, then gives a small confirmatory nod and relaxes a little, apparently relieved that F'kan isn't arguing.

<Southern Weyr> Verokanth senses that: Khalyssrielth spirals an idle inquiry of ice and iron toward that beach wave. Is there disruption within the walls of Southern tonight?

"Well, it was only the one time that it got far enough to ahem…break the rule as it were." F'kan says, his natural smirk coming back to his lips before he quickly schools his expression as one of seriousness.
<Southern Weyr> Verokanth senses that: Verokanth answers the queen respectfully. « His rider must answer to the Weyrleader. He and his are both young, and the rider wished to fly when he should have stayed on the ground. » So to speak.

"The rule isn't don't have sex with a candidate two or more times. It's no sex. Period." D'wane isn't going to snort or roll his eyes, but there's some serious eyebrow raising going on from his side of the table and D'wane's eyebrows are serious business.

<Southern Weyr> Verokanth senses that: There's just a little ordinary trouble in paradise. Nothing these bronzes can't handle (being the trio of Nok, Vero and Rock). (Rocketh)

There is a brief twitch, a flicker of something before L'xan speaks again. "And what makes you above the rules and traditions that Southern was founded on brownrider?" Gone is even the pretense of his charm, it is all there is nothing but the bite of chill anger and disapproval in the Weyrleaders tone now.

Gulping audibly, F'kan looks from D'wane to the Weyrleader, and shrugs his shoulders. "I didn't think there was harm in it. I was the one being chased. She would hardly leave me alone." Ok so he may be getting a little defensive now that things are looking way more serious that he was expecting for something that in his mind was such a minor thing.

R'zel has a tendency to fall into the 'good cop' role. His tone is milder than the others' as he asks, "You did know she was a candidate, F'kan?" It's a question, but he doesn't sound as if he's in much doubt of the answer.

L'xan is just going to have a Picard moment, face-palming like a pro, even as he indicates with 2 fingers for his Number 2 to 'handle it' (Psst, D'wane that's you)

Unfortunately, D'wane doesn't have the same awesome facial hair as Number 2 does, but he certainly can handle this as he gives the most disappointed sigh ever. "You were a candidate yourself less than two turns ago. It seems like you've either learned nothing or forgotten everything about the experience."
<Southern Weyr> Verokanth senses that: Khalyssrielth blesses Verokanth with the memory of fragrance, a blue rose's lilting scent over the sere sweep of snow's frigid torrent. « If you require assistance, you must need only ask. » Not that the senior expects that trio's riders to request Bailey's presence, though the woman seems nearby, if Khalyssrielth's nuance is correct.

"I was Searched all of two days before the Hatching." F'kan says in his defense even though he can't see he is just digging the hole deeper. "So no, I don't remember candidacy that much cause I didn't have much of one." Running his fingers through his hair, he is really starting to sweat about this. "Why are we making such a big deal out of this? C'mon guys, you all know how sweet young things look at a dragonrider, they can't help themselves." Right Bros? Bros?

<Southern Weyr> Verokanth senses that: Verokanth thinks « « Thank you. » Verokanth's thanks are tinged with mint that shades into an amused waft of lime as he continues, « I expect Rocketh's will be able to scare some sense into Quaverilth's if necessary. » »

<Southern Weyr> Verokanth senses that: Rocketh thinks « Nope. Mine thinks this one is a goner. Absolutely no sense in his head at all. »

<Southern Weyr> Verokanth senses that: Nokteryth scatters his oily rainbows with gleeful abandon, frolicing amidst the ruins of what was with a spring in his step. « Yeah, actually my queen. There is something you could do. If you could be a luv, and keep our boy Quaverilth grounded for a bit, that'd be smashing! » And off he frolics again, taking a great deal of delight in the chaos and WTF-ery of the scene.

<Southern Weyr> Verokanth senses that: Quaverilth thinks « With waves crashing against the shore, Quaverilth's mood is sullen, «Mine has a problem with not thinking before speaking…or acting…or anything really.» »

L'xan is disappointed in both the hairless number two AND the young brownrider before him. Which probably explains why he slams both palms into the table and stands. "ARE YOU FUCKING RETARDED?" This is a question that just has to be asked. "Any rule that operates within this weyr is to be FOLLOWED by every single rider. Are you a rider, or someone idiot who keeps his brains in his pants?"

Ohhh… D'wane was supposed to be yelling? But he just learned about his inside voice yesterday. He's just going to sit back and take notes on L'xan's form. The proper yelling form.

So much for good cop. R'zel takes a deep breath and tries to keep quiet for… well, as long as it takes for L'xan to say his piece, before failing utterly. "Anyway, that rule is in place to protect the dragons that will hatch, as well as the candidates that may Impress them. Respect them if you don't respect other people or the rules we live by."

F'kan jumps visibly in his chair and looks actually scared now. Shit. Not Bros. Definitely not Bros. "No Sir. I am a rider. I-I was just so stupid. I wasn't thinking." What else can the teen say to make it up to them? F'kan, king of back-peddling. "I am very very sorry for my very stupid actions." And he tries to change from scared to contrite, but terror is stronger and he clutches the chair he is sitting on.

<Southern Weyr> Verokanth senses that: Khalyssrielth patiently rimes Quaverilth's waves with ice and frost and the heavy weight of anchors who have given up the forlorn aging of rust in honor of her frigid service. « Do be a dear, » the senior queen amusedly offers, even as her will turns idly upon keeping the brown well and truly tied to the earth.

L'xan doesn't indulge his temper often, so it probably is pretty scary. "I am so tempted to send you to the most isolated minehold right now." The yelling has stopped…for now, no guarentees. "But instead seeing as your first weyrlinghood failed to get anything into your thick skull, I'm going to give you a second one. THIS TIME." He slaps the table again for emphasis. "You WILL pay attention." There is another thump of the table. "THIS TIME you will learn that a dragonrider is about responsibility and NOT FUCKING INEXPERIENCED GIRLS, who also happen to be candidates. IF you want to fuck, when you have completed your weyrlinghood, there are plenty of women who will happily and freely spread their legs for you." Is L'xan being clear?

<Southern Weyr> Verokanth senses that: Nokteryth continues his gleeful gambol, flicking muck and flame hither and yon. « Thanks luv! » And then because he is a creature that courts chaos. « You're looking a bit shiny lately… » And there is a sense that the anarchist bronze is going to see if this is actually true.

<Southern Weyr> Verokanth senses that: As it turns out, Khalyssrielth has enough will to ground two dragons simultaneously. (Khalyssrielth)

"Wait a minute! Weyrlinghood? Again?" F'kan did not expect that, he had just graduated weyrlinghood. "Quaverilth is a mature brown, what if he chases in a flight?" He says because we all can see clearly where F'kan's priorities lie. "And he can't fit in the barracks anymore." the brownrider adds desperately. F'kan, really? You think these minor triffles are going to change these fine gentlemen's minds?

"He won't." D'wane will answer that question for him about flights, considering he's been keeping appraised of the dragon half of the conversation and Khaly's grounding of the brown. "And he'll fit. The weyrlingmasters dragons do." The couch will be mighty tight though. #sorrynotsorry. #hedeservesit.

R'zel gives L'xan a thoughtful look before turning the exact same expression on F'kan and advising, "You'd better remember the weyrling restrictions, too: this is not a way of maximising your opportunities with the girls in the class." There's a pause for consideration before he adds, for completeness, "Or the boys, for that matter."

"Are you arguing with me?" L'xan asks in a tone that suggests F'kan probably should reconsider that. "Perhaps if you had followed the rules like everyone else, you wouldn't have to repeat the lesson." He sounds almost reasonable. "We can set you up right now. It'll be cosy." His expression promises anything but. "I'm sure the girls friends will help out on that score R'zel. I mean some of them would have had to have impressed right?"

"But.." F'kan tries to get more excuses out but it's becoming more and more obvious that there is no way to get out of this situation. His rage and embaressment is boiling to the surface, his face going red. He is about to open his mouth again to surely spew something as equally stupid but a private entreaty from his brown cause him to snap his mouth shut again and he crosses his arms over his torso as if to hold himself back. He gets to his feet and salutes towards the Weyrleader, "Will that be all sir?" he says through clenched teeth.

"I hear the new goldweyrling is also from Igen, like the girl," D'wane's going to helpfully point out maybe a little too gleefully. "We'll escort you." That we may just be R'zel and D'wane or might end up being L'xan as well. Because nothing is quite as embarrassing as being publically marched to your new home/punishment by a group of looming bronzeriders.

"And I suppose the gossip mill will get hold of it soon enough," R'zel adds with a hint of distaste. He's clearly including himself in the 'we' as he arranges his feet ready for standing before looking to the Weyrleader for dismissal.

L'xan has been around for a little while now, and was raised by a canny woman, so F'kan's little display is noted with a raised brow. Long gone is the goofy fumbling Weyrleader he usually presents. "When you can act like a man, perhaps you'll be treated like one. Until then, you are dismissed… weyrling." He nods respectfully to the two bronze wingseconds. Dragonriding - Not just a cool dragon, it's a bit like the military. "Thank you gentlemen." He's already standing, but he's going to straighten and watch the procession leave before finding his way outside to see what Nokteryth is bitching about now (Hint: Nokteryth can't fly~)

And here comes the cause, Bailey's red hair shining under the glowlight as she ducks into the council rooms from her office. Her eyebrows raise in flawless inquiry as she glances around the four male faces at the table, a silent smirk smudging the lines of her lips. Well, then. "Good evening, gentleman," drive-by senior as she watches the ones part ways and move deeper into the inner caverns proper. And possibly avoiding answering L'xan about why his dragon can't fly. nbd.

F'kan turns on his heel and heads to the door. Oh he knows where he's going all right. His foul mood follows him like a dark cloud as he stomps out of the Council Room and towards the Weyrling Barracks with a quick step, dtopping long enough to salute the Weyrwoman on his way past.

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