Who

A'lory, G'deon

What

About weyrlings, wingleaders, and the people who guide them. Or try to, anyway.

When

It is noon of the fourth day of the eleventh month of the sixth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Weyrling Training Grounds, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 10 Jan 2016 07:00

 

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"Perhaps I ought to learn to withhold my opinion until after I eat — I get rather… short when I'm hungry."


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Weyrling Training Grounds

Here, a wide and spacious field, devoid of all but more of the glare of ubiquitous, fine white sand of Igen: not even a blade of grass dares lift its head against centuries of clumsy draconic antics. To one side, ever-present firestone bins are set, kept supplied by many a hand, while agenothree tanks line the curving angle just outside the barracks, primed and ready for use. Very often, a glimpse of classes in session or dragonets at play may be caught under the open sky under the watchful eye of diligent Weyrlingmasters and older dragons.

It is the thirty-fourth day of Autumn and 69 degrees. A cloud appears on the horizon, familiar to Igen natives, swelling across the blue skies quickly, promising another stand storm.


The Noon hour has just been announced, leaving wearied weyrlings to disperse for their meal, and to freshen up for whatever lies in store for the afternoon. Whatever it is, it will probably not include the Weyrlingmaster, who is slowly gathering his things into his old worn satchel, with Nylanth waiting patiently nearby, darkly glittering in the autumn sunlight. A couple of the wingleaders have been hanging about this morning, watching the drills both on the ground and in the air. As for Gid, he had to watch everything from right where he is, using Nylanth's faceted eyes. Handy, but unsatisfactory. Most of the weyrlingmaster's assistants have also departed for food, leaving Gid alone as the wingleaders approach them. He gives them both a technically correct yet half-hearted salute, then drops into a chair, slightly pale beneath a very thin sheen of sweat. "Yet more sand coming in this afternoon, gentlemen," the weyrlingmaster announces, sounding grim. "I think those rope-flaming displays will have to wait. I suppose the good news is that sand shreds Thread as much as it does us. Not entirely, but…" Which is where he trails off, waving a hand, already bored with his own conversation. Or tired. Always tired.

While most of the weyrlings and staff have vamoosed from the area as quickly as possible, all things considered, A'lory has chosen to hang about, slowly freeing Eisheth from the riding straps and offering a bit of a massage to ease a knotted muscle or two in the long thick neck. One ear is, as ever, tuned toward the older Weyrlingmaster, looking for any sign of overexertion — a Healer never really puts down his trade. A squinted glance over his shoulder in the direction of the huddle, and he begins to wander in that direction, fiddling around in his jacket for that ever-present flask he likes to secret upon his person, and finding it just as he reaches the little group. Quietly, he pulls it free of his inner pocket and offers it to G'deon with a little wink. "Have a drink, sir. You know, to wet your whistle."

G'deon looks very tempted for a good handful of seconds, so close to the verge of accepting. In the end, however, his shoulders slope downward slightly as he turns down the offer with a quick smile, then darts his eyes toward the wingleaders with a minute tilt of his head, as if suggesting the man offer the same to the other two riders, lightly coaching. "A'lory, I'm glad you came over. We were hoping to nail down some wing tappings. We were thinking S'tan and Hosurth to Parhelion, plus Ty'ban and Breturth. I've been trying to convince them that Rora and Giparath would make an excellent fit, but they're dead set against adding any vagina's to their stellar little group." In case it isn't apparent, G'deon is unimpressed. By one of the rider's faces, he's struggling somewhere between embarrassed and insulted. "She'd do equally well in Arroyo, though, so his loss is their gain, I think. Thoughts?"

A'lory extends that flask out to the other pair, and pushes his unruly hair free of his face for what seems like the thouandth time that day. "Hmmph. Girls're generally steadier than boys, you know. Less likely to go looking for trouble to 'prove their worth'." He raises his eyebrows, hopefully. "I mean, you do want steady riders, don't you? Rora has a cool head on her shoulders, while Ty'ban could use a bit of… " That now flask-free hand tilts from one side to the other, balancing a thing or two against each other. "… watching, shall we say. He's a bit too eager to prove himself." A moment of scratching at his chin — stirring up ome thoughts, perhaps? One hopes! — and he digs a toe into the sand, glancing down to eye the furrow with a deep frown. "Look, gentlemen, you've got to accept that women are a part of the force, now. And their vaginas aren't going to rub off on you and turn you into women." THat last is said with a wicked litle grin.

There just might be a teeny tiny wince from G'deon as A'lory replies to the Parhelion's S'doin, but he does not interrupt and just goes back to packing things into his satchel. Once that red-faced wingleader looks about ready to burst, G'deon butts in as if he hadn't noticed, saying, "Meanwhile, Rhs'tak here would like to take a few for Sandblast. R'il and Kuhomth, Kifi and Coselth, and Numa and that brown of hers…" He trails off, looking suddenly perplexed until the name either comes to him, or Nylanth supplies it. "Grerleranth. Can never remember that one," he mutters, sounding just a little frustrated about. He slices his hand across the air and hauls himself to his feet, slipping the satchel strap over his head. "At least Blasters aren't afraid." Of course, some might say it's because they're too stupid to be, which just might be what's going through S'doin's mind, going by his change in expression. Definitely bordering on a sneer. "Meanwhile, H'fin is pretty dead set on chasing down some dragonhealing studies, and I'm not about to dissuade him. That boy has a gift," Gid finishes before pointing at Parhelion dude's chest. "So you can't have him, and stop asking me about it." He stops to take a breath, then gives A'lory a smile. "I think we'd best get to lunch," he tells the bronze rider before giving the wingleaders a salute in a rather pointed dismissal before he turns toward the bowl, leaving them to do whatever it is they're going to do.

A'lory gives G'deon his best, most doleful stare, full of injured innocence. However, he doesn't continue in that particular line of teasing; it's obviously a bit too much teasing. As to the rest of the potential tappings, he'll keep his silence and let the more experienced man handle it. "Mmm, lunch. I rather think it'd be a good idea to wrap myself around some food." He'll turn himself Bowl-ward as well, leaving the other men to their own devices.

G'deon doesn't speak much as they make their way to the cavern. It's quite possible he can't speak, as the slow trek seems to take whatever lung power he has. Nylanth follows on foot, his own gait slow to match, eyes keenly alert. Not least of which to make sure he avoids knocking into anyone with feet or tail, his wings kept folded tightly to his back. Eventually they do reach the living cavern, however, and G'deon moves toward the end of the queue for food. "Wingleaders take some finessing," he comments after a few seconds to catch his breath. His face has a haggard look to it, but nothing too worn. He's not going to drop dead right there, at least. "You were doing great until you said they need to accept what they don't want to. We've been here for Turns now. Debates are done. I was rubbing salt in a wound he can't see. You were using authority you don't have." His tone is light, conversational, but as he finishes, he finally turns toward A'lory, levelling a steady gaze on the other man that would have looked more natural in a far younger man. "I'm telling you this for the future. Not to make you feel bad. The same goes for weyrlings, especially when they're new. Our job is to guide, not to steer."

"Yeah, sorry about all that." A'lory winces, scrubs sheepishly at his hair, and glances away as he gathers himself. "I kind of gathered that from their expressions." And the subtly disappointed look that flitted across G'deon's face. "Huh. I guess I did kind of… beat them over the head with a borrowed club." The line shifts a bit and they move forward in the queue. "Patience with parochial attitudes not being my most advanced skill, an all. And yet, I would guess I am going to have to learn, and fast, hey?"

"If I didn't think you would do well at it, I wouldn't agreed to it," G'deon replies, smiling gently. "You're going to get something of a crash course, I'm afraid, what with all the changes around here lately. Also, to be fair, I did ask you to give your input," he adds, smile going crooked. Feet shuffle forward again, as the smell of food reaching them gets stronger by the moment. "Luckily we should have just enough of a breather between these weyrlings getting tapped and the new bunch coming in. I'll pair you up with some of the other assistants for some of the other duties that will come along. By the time we have that fresh clutch, you'll have things in hand, I don't doubt." More shuffling before he glances at the other rider again. "For now, any questions?"

"Yes," A'lory agrees sagely, tilting his head slightly to the left. "And I rather gave it, didn't I." The line is scanned with growing impatience. He's hungry. Why aren't they moving faster? "Hmm. Perhaps I ought to learn to withhold my opinion until after I eat — I get rather… short when I'm hungry." Bright eyes return to G'deon, intently curious. "I'll be looking forward to this course. Perhaps a bit more observation and less talking, eh? So who am I paired up with first?"

Bit by bit, the two work their way through the queue, then a quick meal, while G'deon lays out the game plan. As afternoon settles in, so does the latest sand storm, keeping weyrlings and staff barricaded inside whichever rooms could be set aside for their lessons. At least it will be a good time for A'lory to see how the others do this thing they do.

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