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Gray Areas; {{Brothread for Ira}}
Topic Started: Jun 7 2013, 12:55 PM (256 Views)
Fishy
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T'ech felt the mantle of responsibility on his shoulders more on days like this than any other. Tytoth still lurked at the hatching ground entrance. His bronze was so wound up by the previous nights events that he'd had to cancel drills for the day; it was impossible to get his dragon to move from where he stood guard and no amount of sweet talking or bribery would have an effect on him right now. T'ech honestly didn't blame him.

He was still furious himself. Furious at the absolute gall of those candidates who felt that they were entitled to a Touching on their own terms. That defied the direct orders of their Weyrleaders and masters. Did they really think they knew what was best? That they knew more than those with turns of experience? Jays, the thought of what might have happened if Lerouth hadn't caught them sent shivers down his spine. A dragon would never harm a person...except right after hatching and if they perceived a threat to their eggs. Those candidates had been flirting with death.

And then there was Al'dai.

T'ech slumped into his customary spot in the dining caverns. He could see the man across the room sitting with his wingsecond and glared briefly, furiously in his direction before concentrating on his own mug. There was no sense talking to the other bronzerider until he had cleared his head. Speaking in anger would not help the situation. And honestly, he didn't know what to do with the man. He'd beaten a candidate into unconsciousness, broke his arm and kicked him when he was down. That sort of behavior wasn't at all acceptable in his Weyr. He'd encouraged discipline yes, but physical assault? No, that was crossing the line.

I approve of his actions, Tytoth rumbled irately.

T'ech scowled into his drink. Did I ask for you fecking opinion? Jays, what was he going to do? The decision with the candidates had been clear, but this wasn't as simple. He might very well be stabbing himself in the back if he punished Al'dai beyond a stern talk, but if he did nothing it sent a message to the entire Weyr that that sort of behavior was acceptable.

He was gonna need another drink.


((Fuzzytimed to the evening after the sneaky candidates))
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Wingsecond RhiasGarnet Melacyth#ccoo3d
Weyrling T'rinnBrown EncantothperuPosted Image
Wingrider BikGrey Auralyth#7a7a7aPosted ImagePosted Image
Wingrider JiirBlue OkouthmidnightbluePosted Image
Bluerider LairahBlue Elbereth#0f1155Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image
Candidate SorrinPosted Imagex10
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The seat beside T'ech was unoccupied, but it did not remain in that state for long. Announcing his presence by setting his drink heavily upon the table, O'zen slid onto the seat and offered a grin toward his friend. T'ech looked like he was having a terrible day; slouched in his chair, glowering down at his cup, it was clear that something was festering in his mind.

Hearing all the talk buzzing about the Weyr, O'zen thought he had a good guess. And if all he heard were true, he thought it was very natural that T'ech would be angry. While he could not deny that he still coveted Weyrleadership in spite of his friendship with T'ech, it was times like these that he was grateful the burden wasn't on his shoulders instead.

He was glad to see that T'ech was coping with it in the best of ways. O'zen's personal philosophy: work things out over a drink.

"You look a little stressed there, friend," O'zen said jovially, clapping T'ech on the back. "Have a few more drinks and you'll feel much better."
O'zen : Bronze Lenth
Lowen : Beryllium Lerriloth
Jerund : Brown Jerusk
Hama : Green Hamask
Eevai : Garnet Iopeth
Sh'ol : Graphite Hellioth
Kh'sev : Grey Saiyeth
Bervaidi : Blue Bervask
Syrsha : Brown Kalayth
Rosinthew : Candidate
Khola : Weyrfolk
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"Is there a stronger word than stressed?" T'ech wondered aloud. He was beyond stressed and somewhere into "ready to explode at the drop of a hat". He liked to consider himself reasonable, patient. But if one more emergency arose today, he wasn't sure he'd be able to contain his temper. Not with Tytoth's fury fueling his own.

At least he had O'zen to complain to.

"Ungrateful entitled little shits," he growled. "No respect for authority. Think standing is a right, not a privilege." It was easy enough to complain about misbehaving candidates, but speaking ill of one of his wingleaders, someone O'zen was acquaintances with wouldn't be nearly as comfortable. He filled his mug and took a long drink. Might as well get it out there.

"Between the children and the riders acting like childish bullies, I'm at the end of my rope, O'zen. Tytoth is ready to kill someone and so am I."
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Wingsecond RhiasGarnet Melacyth#ccoo3d
Weyrling T'rinnBrown EncantothperuPosted Image
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"Fardled," O'zen supplied helpfully, cracking another grin at his own humor. While T'ech ranted, he occupied himself with his drink, taking a few long swigs of the bitter alcohol and listening to his friend all the while. So his suspicions were correct, then--not that he'd had any doubt.

"Well, I hope you thoroughly terrified them. Did I hear right that you sent one of the little bastards home? Just ordered him away, in front of everyone?" O'zen's expression took on an impish, almost gleeful quality. "I suspect you wont get any more trouble from them. They know they're on thin ice. They wont want to follow their ex-fellow candidate."

He did not immediately have a response for the second facet of the issue at hand. He figured T'ech was talking about Al'dai; rumors about his actions spread like fire cleansing a Thread-infested field.

Hard as he tried, O'zen couldn't think of a way to find the humor in it. His voice dropped, low and serious. "Have you talked to Al'dai yet?"
O'zen : Bronze Lenth
Lowen : Beryllium Lerriloth
Jerund : Brown Jerusk
Hama : Green Hamask
Eevai : Garnet Iopeth
Sh'ol : Graphite Hellioth
Kh'sev : Grey Saiyeth
Bervaidi : Blue Bervask
Syrsha : Brown Kalayth
Rosinthew : Candidate
Khola : Weyrfolk
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"That boy was lucky I think physical punishment is barbaric," T'ech grumbled into his drink. The smoothness of it soothed his nerves, just a tad. Though O'zen's mention of Al'dai had them frazzled all over again. What was he going to do with that man?

"If there's one thing I am sure of, it's that candidates will always be trouble. When this batch is Impressed or moved on, the next won't remember this fiasco. It will happen all over again, I'll wager, in some form or another."

This would be where Tytoth usually poked his nose into the conversation, glossing over T'ech's angry pessimism with a sardonic comment or something positive about the situation. But, at the moment, the huge bronze was in no mood to placate his rider. T'ech pitied anyone foolish enough to approach his dragon right now.

"I haven't talked to him," he said. There was a wealth of frustration in his voice. "Because I haven't figured out what I'm going to do with him yet. That sort of behavior is absolutely unacceptable...but jays, we need the man. I'm at a loss and, to be perfectly honest with you O'zen, not in the right frame of mind to speak with him without shouting."
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Weyrling T'rinnBrown EncantothperuPosted Image
Wingrider BikGrey Auralyth#7a7a7aPosted ImagePosted Image
Wingrider JiirBlue OkouthmidnightbluePosted Image
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O'zen paused; took a sip of alcohol and held it in his mouth, though the action was visibly not to savor his drink. He had dropped his characteristic joviality and taken on an expression of sober thought; the wingleader, the ex-Weyrleader, was overpowering the Bitran; the cogs in his mind were turning.

When he swallowed, it was a quick and decisive gesture, as if to signify he had come to a conclusion. "Hear me out, T'ech, and I will offer you a solution to your first problem--that is, the candidates." He turned to face the Weyrleader, his dark eyes flat without the usual glimmer of humor. "Forget them.

"They are entirely Merilla's problem, not yours. Keeping the candidates out of trouble is the whole summary of her job--aside from, you know, preparing them to become dragonriders." Here, the humor sparked again in his stare. "Merilla and her assistants are capable. Trust that they will do their jobs. That's the point of candidatemasters, weyrlingmasters, wingleaders--you can't do everything, so you appoint people you trust to do it for you."

O'zen leaned back in his chair with a sigh, gearing himself to tackle the next problem. Al'dai was not such a simple matter.

"You do need him; but T'ech, you won't lose him; you aren't going to send him packing like your disgraced candidate. You can give him a verbal lashing, or watchduty, or dole out whatever punishment you see fit, and he will still remain one of your wingleaders. The simple fact of the matter is this: You are Weyrleader, and your judgement is final. Al'dai must conform to the way you run this Weyr, whether he likes it or not. If he throws a hissy fit, it discredits him, not you.

"And if it makes you feel any better, I bet you Merilla's already torn him to pieces--and not in the good way." The laughter had returned to his eyes in full force, and his mouth twisted wryly; O'zen had his serious moments, but they never lingered long.
O'zen : Bronze Lenth
Lowen : Beryllium Lerriloth
Jerund : Brown Jerusk
Hama : Green Hamask
Eevai : Garnet Iopeth
Sh'ol : Graphite Hellioth
Kh'sev : Grey Saiyeth
Bervaidi : Blue Bervask
Syrsha : Brown Kalayth
Rosinthew : Candidate
Khola : Weyrfolk
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T'ech sat back in his chair, startled by O'zen's advice but definitely taking it into careful consideration. There was a buzzing in his fingertips, in his lips, the beginning of the loss of sensation in his digits that meant he was teetering dangerously on the line between sobriety and inebriation but O'zen's words still made sense.

Despite the part of him that felt the need to micromanage every little thing that happened in the Weyr, he knew that he couldn't. And what's more, Merilla would hardly appreciate him trying. The Weyrleader sighed heavily and rubbed at his eyepatch. There were lines around his remaining eye, lines that hadn't been there a few short turns ago. Stress had prematurely grayed a few tiny curls that framed his face. J'ean claimed it made him look distinguished. T'ech just felt old.

"Something needs to be said. I had hoped we could be cordial with each other, jays I was trying so hard, but you're right. In the end, he is my subordinate right now and what he did was wrong."

He gave his friend a tired smile and the lines around his eyes smoothed and shattered the illusion of age beyond his years. "Thanks O'zen. I hope she ripped him apart. If she can handle Al'dai, she can handle the candidates. The last fardling thing we need is for candidates to be afraid of us!"
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T'ech's smile, tired though it was, was all that it took to get O'zen grinning again. "Anytime, T'ech. I'm full of wisdom, you might find." Ah, but it was good to see that smile, good to see the lines etching T'ech face lighten for a moment. The man took too much weight on his shoulders; he worried far too much.

O'zen had a solution for that, too.

"You can worry about Al'dai tomorrow. Tonight"--he punctuated that word by slapping his open palm down on the table--"we are going to do some drinking. We are going to find you a pretty girl--oh shaffit, wait, you're with that J'ean fellow, aren't you?"

O'zen paused to reconsider. "We are going to find me a pretty girl; you can do whatever you want. Just stop scowling."
O'zen : Bronze Lenth
Lowen : Beryllium Lerriloth
Jerund : Brown Jerusk
Hama : Green Hamask
Eevai : Garnet Iopeth
Sh'ol : Graphite Hellioth
Kh'sev : Grey Saiyeth
Bervaidi : Blue Bervask
Syrsha : Brown Kalayth
Rosinthew : Candidate
Khola : Weyrfolk
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