Who

M'noq, F'kan

What

F'kan meets with his new Wingleader and has a bit of a break through into the reasons behind his erratic behavior recently

When

It is the afternoon of the twenty-ninth day of the twelfth month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

War Room, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 20 Jan 2018 05:00

 

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War Room

Within this room there is a constant buzz, a low-pitched thrum of activity no matter the time of day — or night. Here are the records for the current leadership, and pertinent information for the time: inventories and star-charts, ledgers and tithe manifests and wing records. Such valuable information is kept twice-watched by two disparate forces: a guard at the door and the archivist at his table, and none quite sure which of the two is more dangerous.


While M'noq would probably consider the heat of Southern's summer afternoons preferable to the rain of the winter ones, that doesn't mean he doesn't go out of his way to find somewhere cool and quiet, indoors, during the heat of the day. He has Ravaith pass a message on to Quaverilth, asking his rider to make his way to the war room. While he waits, M'noq makes himself familiar with the disciplinary folder he was given. He reads the content somberly, mulling over his options.

Having just been released from the healers with numbweed applied, F'kan had just enough time to try and make himself mildly more presentable at the baths, a quick rinse to referesh him, his blond hair lying wetly against his head now. Then Quav relays the message and with a final gental scrub at his face with the towel, he sighs heavily before making his way in that direction. The entire trek to the war room, his brown is instructing him on how he is going to behave in front of his new Wingleader and how he was not going to let his mouth run away from him again. When he finally reaches his destination, F'kan's brows are furrowed, a stormy look to his blue eyes. Seeing M'noq, he gives him a salute and a crisp, "Sir." Before standing with his arms at his side, looking at nothing in particular just kind of generally ahead of himself. He's suddenly a man of few words it seems.

M'noq looks at the young rider appraisingly for a moment, then waves a hand at a chair on the opposite side of the table. "Sit," he says, waiting until F'kan does so before continuing. "So, it's clear you know how to salute. That tells me you know how you're supposed to behave, you just choose not to act that way. And clearly you can hold your tongue when you choose to, too, even though I heard a lot of disrespectful language in your meeting with D'wane. Tell me why that is."

F'kan looks at the chair for a moment before moving to sit down, moving a little easier that earlier. When he's finally settled. He puts his hands in his lap and really thinks for a moment before answering, considering an array of different responses that want to spill out at that, from defensive to apologetic, until finaly with a heavy sigh he says simply. "I don't know Sir. I've never had this kind of temper. I don't know where it's coming from." oh he knows, it's in his pantal region. Boy hasn't been laid for awhile. "I was blaming Xanthee," look he's not using really rude words for her anymore, that's progress right? "But..I lost face and I haven't been able to get past that." He feels like a total prat now by the way after a LOT of discussion with Quaverilth. "I've never had someone get under my skin like her." Someone's making a break through folks.

M'noq listens, then finally nods at the explanation. "So, what you're saying is, your bad behavior is simply a matter of not being able to control your dick. Or… is it a general lack of respect for the women you've slept with? I'm not entirely clear." There's a hard edge to M'noq's voice that he doesn't like using. "I'm not really sure what to do with you, F'kan. K'vvan had you do a lot of PT, right? Did he talk with you much?" M'noq is guessing not… knowing K'vvan. "I expect you owe Xanthee an apology. I'd like you to write her a letter, detailing at length where you screwed up, and how you are working on getting your shit together. I shouldn't have to tell you that you won't be going back to Igen any time soon, because the only time you'll be leaving the Weyr for a while is under Lynx business."

«Damn he has you pegged.» Quaverilth's smug reply rumbles into F'kan as the brownrider sighs. "Yes Sir, I guess you could say all that. And yes to the PT as well, and no to the talking." That's all the questions right? F'kan pauses to run his hand through his still damp hair with another sigh and a little bit of a wince. A letter to Xanthee. What new and special hell is this? He feels his temper start to flare, but a mental static shock from Quav puts a stop to that. «C'mon, you're doing so well, don't lose it now.» Mentally brushes him off and nudges an answer out out him. "Yes Sir. I will work on it as soon as you want me to." he says with a little croak in his throat as his mouth is suddenly dry. And when M'noq mentions not even thinking of going to Igen, F'kan merely nods his agreement.

M'noq muses a bit further. "How long do you need to work on that? A day? Bring me a draft the day after tomorrow, at morning drills. Hmm…." He shuffles through his papers for a schedule, then begins making notes. "Threadfall tomorrow, I'd prefer you drill with us before you flew Thread. I don't need more casualties. Consider yourself on firestone hauling duty, unless I call you up briefly otherwise." So kind, M'noq is. He doesn't want to see him killed. "You're going to do daily training with the Weyr guards, hand-to-hand combat." He eyeballs the younger rider. "They should teach you discipline, as well as how not to get your ass kicked. That's in addition to any special training Lynx will be doing."

F'kan nods quietly at every new instruction, listening intently to M'noq. He just doesn't want to say anything right now. He's exhausted and stiff and he just wants to go to sleep, but his one good eye remains alert throughout. "Yes, Sir." he says simply when the other brownrider finishes. He looks deflated almost, like the fight has completely gone out of him as he waits patiently for whatever else he knows is coming.

"Ah, almost forgot." M'noq digs around in his satchel for a moment, then pulls out a knot and a pauldron. He slides them across the table to the other man. "Wear the pauldron on your off-shoulder during Threafall, drills, anything official. It can also substitute for dress leathers whenever it's too sharding hot to wear those things around the Weyr. You know much about Lynx? We tend to collect 'unique' skills. You have any worth mentioning?" Here's F'kan's chance to put in anything he's good at or wants to work on.

Taking the knot and pauldron, F'kan nods when M'noq explains, and then he's being asked what he knows about Lynx and he answers quite honestly, "Um, not much." Unique skills? He means besides women? What else is there? F'kan's brow furrows for a moment before he answers hesistantly, "I used to work on a fishing boat with my dad." with a weak shrug. Really his mispent youth was either spent on the deck of a boat, or chasing skirt around Black Rock Hold, it was a simple life, but he liked it.

"Fishing boats, huh? I read you were from Black Rock. We should talk about that soon," M'noq says, adding a couple more notes to his list. He'll soon have things very busy for F'kan. "Also, no flights. No dates. No 'dates' either, if you're thinking of some other way to skirt the rules." He eyeballs the young brownrider. "Check in with A'hali before Threadfall so you can get on his list." M'noq gathers up his files and stands. This meeting is pretty much over. "Lynx works hard and plays hard. I hope you'll fit in better with us than you did with Ocelot. If you don't, I think there's a spot saved for you in Puma." M'noq's smile is so bright it's a little unsettling.

F'kan knows when he's being dismissed and after nodding to all the additional rules regarding his sex life, those he knew were coming, he stands with another "Yes Sir. I hope so sir." And he actually sounds sincere. Well time will tell whether he is or not. At M'noq unsettling bright smile, he just tries not to react one way or another. So he'll just hightail it out of there, determined to be in his weyr and in his bed in less than 10 mins.

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