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 Posted: Wed Sep 16, 2009 2:10 pm
The morning had dawned bright and clear, falling on the tense shoulders of one rider who sat rather conspicuously towards the front of the Dining Hall. Being a cavern had it's benefits, but one of them was a notable lack of openings for sunlight to seep through. While she normally took her breakfast outdoors on a fine morning like this, Lyveana had brought some of her hidework with her, and she was determined to have her reports on D'tai's desk before the morning was out.
So she had compromised by finding one of the few spots in the Hall that had a bit of natural light, and sat herself down with a steaming pot of klah, a small platter of finger sized meatrolls, and a smaller bowl with sliced fruit. She planned to be here for quite some time, obviously, since along with the food, there were quite a few piles of records stacked to her right and to her left. Most were her notes on certain riders she had her eyes on, and two were recommendations; but the rest were simple health and progress reports on the dragons in her Wing. While not necessarily mind numbing, the work was tedious and repetitive, but Lyveana understood the value of them, and did not begrudge the loss of her morning. When thread came, such reports would be far more then simple checklists that everyone was healthy, they would contain medical records from the healers that mapped out the recovery time of injured dragons and their riders. Shivering lightly at the thought, she mumbled a quiet 'Avert' and reached over blindly for a meatroll, her eyes otherwise occupied reading a recent notice about some changes noticed in wind patterns over Ista Island's easterly coast.
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Posted: Thu Sep 17, 2009 1:51 pm
A shame for the green rider that her morning would not go undisturbed. Though it seemed as if the lower caverns were always bustling with activity, from candidates and drudges scrubbing tables or floors, plates of food being set out or cleaned up, riders here, weyr folk there, the morning had yet to pick up for the lunch time rush. No, it was actually some what peaceful and while faces lingered at each table, there felt a temporary lack of madness.
"I'm going, I'm going!" The man laughed, retreating hastily out from the kitchens and ducking his head as a small brown fire-lizard chittered, hissed and warbled at him. The little creature certainly took too much offense to his teasing of his mistress. . . A mistake he would make note of but was most certainly going to repeat in the future. With a plate filled with some stale sweet rolls left over from morning (one looked to have a few bites missing, and another couple looked charred completely on the bottom) and a small bowl filled with left over raw meat, T'loa was ready to begin his day.
It was a rest day for Hurricane Wing, and the lethargic man couldn't be happier. He had been able to sleep in (sort of) at least until Xiazu had begged him to rise. The little creature was hungry and as Niyath wasn't interested in feeding, it meant she had to get fed by T'loa the old fashioned way.
Picking his way through the tables, the man spotted a familiar figure at a corner table. Oh, certainly he noticed the pile of records stacked high beside her. . . and she did look rather intent upon her work. But at the very least he could sidle up and greet the poor woman. She certainly wasn't the most popular green rider in Ista Weyr and even if she kept herself cool, distant and detached she wasn't heartless.
Xiazu clung to his shoulder, and with out a second thought the tall man approached. Lethargic as usual, still laden with his own treats, he offered Lyveana a slight bow. It was both mocking and gentlemanly all at once, canting his head to the side with his typical boyish lop-sided grin. ". . .is there ever a moment you're not playing Wingleader?"
His voice was gentle, teasing but not cruel or malicious. Every time he spotted Lyveana she was caught up in work or giving orders and generally being a great leader to those she directed. . . but really, when was the last time she took a moment to just kick back and breathe?
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Posted: Thu Sep 17, 2009 5:22 pm
Glancing up in surprise, Lyveana was about to retort with something waspish when she realized who it was. Sighing instead, she gave a shrug of her shoulders, wincing when the motion caught some tense muscles along her upper back. "No, not really." She replied, casting a frustrated look in the general direction of her stacks of health records while she reached back to work out the stiffness. Granted, she wasn't one to sit still with nothing to occupy her even when she was 'off,' but it had seemed like an awful lot had fallen on her plate since the transfers left for Igen.
"I can't even say sleeping is a respite, given the snores of my neighbors." She added, realizing that in the attempt to not be waspish, she had probably still come across as snippy. Sighing again, she put down the notice she had been reading and picked up her mug instead, perhaps some klah would make it all a little less aggravating.
One sip taught her otherwise.
Face scrunching up in distaste, she set it back down as gently as she could. "By the first egg, that was beyond foul."
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Posted: Thu Sep 24, 2009 6:40 am
Waspish or not, her attitude didn't phase the bronze rider. No amount of foul tempered aggravation seemed to upset T'loa, but on that same hand, he often responded to situations in the exact same way, every time.
A lop-sided smile and nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. Perhaps such a relaxed attitude didn't give him the best reputation as it gave the appearance of apathy or lack of genuine care, but it wast he best way he knew how to get by. It would be wrong to dub him as apathetic, because he actually cared a great deal. But getting close enough to him to actually let loose such feelings was a difficult task; it wasn't that T'loa was lazy, he just didn't care to waste energy on things that weren't particularly important. Politics, fights, or general aggravations of Weyrlife just weren't worth it to throw a fit or fight about.
Pulling out a chair, the tall man flopped rather ungracefully upon it. He used a small corner of her table to set his treats down, but otherwise gave his Wingleader a boyish grin. Canting his head to the side, he clucked his tongue lightly at her. "Surely you must realize that there's more to you than just playing leader, right. . .? I understand it must be hard to find the time, all things considered, but surely there must be a few moments in the day. . . " How he did not envy her position.
Perhaps with age T'loa might find a bit more motivation for politics. But right now, both Niyath and he were content to help the wing without getting involved and tangled in dreadful responsibility. That was R'than and Lyv's job, though the poor lady was seemingly stuck with the workload solely on her shoulders now that her Second left.
So much for being a responsible Wingsecond. . . . couldn't even stay devoted to his wing! But. . .c'est la vie. Nothing would change his transfer now.
Reaching up to offer Xiazu a few snippets of the dreadful stew, he added, "I'd say you could transfer, but finding an empty weyr is like finding a ship-fish in the desert!" Shipfish, dolphin, same thing. . . The former was more fun to say, thankyouverymuch. "Times are tough, or so that's what I hear. . . A little more quiet without Favan though."
The queen rider had never sat well with Niyath. Yes, queen riders were supposed to run and lead the Weyr, were to be of strong stock, but the small lady just seemed to bring unhappiness around her. Her temper was notorious and, while she was strong, she most certainly could use a little people-training. . . Weyrleaders had to deal everyday with people. Social-skills were definitely a must, but Cheoth and she seemed to have lacked such things.
At least she was out of sight, out of mind. . . He didn't know Annelie, Rendeli or Rinfala well at all. . . but any of them had to be more pleasant than Favan. Might Igen enjoy their new Weyrwoman.
Reaching over, he offered a small cup filled with sweetner. "The trick is to either not let the klah touch your tongue or load it so full of sweetner it's more of a solid than liquid," he encouraged, lop-sided smile forever on his features. "I can't promise it'll be any good, but it might help."
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