Day 5 of Month 5 of Turn 2714
Half Moon Bay Weyr - Living Caverns
Here is the center of Weyr life, the living caverns. These two main rooms were man-shaped from smaller caves, and are joined by a carved arch with depictions of dragons in flight and dolphins leaping in swirling waves. One room has many round stone and wooden tables and a stone fire-pit instead of a hearth. Over the round-walled, gas fired pit is a large conical hood made of polished bronze, with reliefs of dragons with their riders flying over ships guided by dolphins. This hood and chimney keeps the room smoke-free. Through the archway is an enormous hall, with long tables and benches, some carved from the rock floor, many crafted of wood. This room is a combination dining and meeting hall, and can seat over 300 comfortably. Above both rooms, angled shafts lined with polished metal bring in sunlight during the day. Electric lights also burn, day and night.
Its morning at the weyr and another warm spring day, the ever present stench of Big Jim is still present despite various means to combat it. The healers are still providing smeet smelling ointments to help people cope. One such healer type is sitting at a table eating breakfast while looking through a textbook and taking notes. The life of an apprentice healer.
Despite the health hazard that is the Weyr, the weyrlings do not get out of lessons. And so S'van is rather worn looking by the time he makes his way into the living caverns, likely seeking refuge from the stench as well as relief for his growling stomach. Morning workout done, morning lessons probably happening soon, he's got scant time to refuel before he's likely expected back. So, it's no surprise that he rushes through the serving tables piling on just about everything he can reach, until the entire thing looks like it may topple over. When it comes time to take a seat, he doesn't hesitate to slide into a vacant chair across from Kelani, as if he was expected or welcome. He tosses out a quick, "Hey," before he dives into his breakfast eagerly.
Kelani looks up from her plate as she hears the occupation take place across from her. There is a smile for the bronze weyrling, "Hey there..How goes things with the cleanup at the barracks?" She queries as she sets her pencil down and reaches for her Klah. "I think there are some plans for smellmonster today. I plan to take cover somewhere myself when that happens." She says and takes a drink. It is perhaps notable that the girl who can talk about infections and parasites while eating is going to take cover.
Iron constitutions come in the form of R'en, who for all intents and purposes hasn't even had the slightest reaction that anyone knows regarding the smell. Some say that once it lingers for long enough, it no longer becomes an issue - so it could very well be that. He steps into the living cavern from the bowl, blonde streaked brown hair tousled from a morning run, the shirt he wears clinging a little more due to it, but otherwise seeming relatively well put together regardless. His footfalls are heavier than some, the thick soles of the boots making noise against the flooring as he crosses it towards the table where he snags himself a plate to start piling a few things onto it. Fruit, it would appear, seems to be his interest for the morning.
It's once he's collected a small pile of fruit that R'en turns to look at the groupings of people. Seeking a spot that is lower key than others, and that the bronzerider can melt into the surroundings. It would appear where the Apprentice Healer and young Bronzerider are seated is good enough, as he walks over and stakes claim to a seat on Kelani's side with his gaze dipping to look at the book she's reading. "I remember reading that one."
"Mm," but that is the only comment from the Weyrling until he has swallowed his mouthful of breakfast. "It's done," for the cleanup. "Once the shark was out, it was really only a matter of tossing the mattresses that were beyond repair and salvaging anything that could be dried out. We were back there and sleeping soundly the next night." There's a sigh, but perhaps he's employed some of the Healer's salve, for there doesn't seem to be much of a reaction for the deep breath, good or bad. "I wish they would just drag it Between where it belongs, and leave us out of it," he mutters. "I'm almost positive the Weyrlings will get put to work doing something horrible." Or at least, he will. His fork is lifted, mouth open, poised to take a bite when they are joined by the bronzerider. Fork down. Mouth closed, if just for a moment before he utters a quick, "morning," in greeting. And then the mountainous bite is taken. Because he is a starving Weyrling on limited time, here.
"That's good, sorry I left when I did, had to get back to duties." Well that is a polite enough reason anyway given the turn of conversation. Kelani wrinkles her nose a bit as he speaks of having to deal with the beast, "I didn't even think of that…hopefully the healers learned what they wanted from it by now." Give her human patients any day. The smell of rotting seafood is just not her favorite thing clearly. As the new rider joins them she looks up, "Its interesting, but a lot to take in. So many diseases to learn…" She says with a nod to him. "Senior Apprentice Kelani." She says in formal introduction of herself to the other healer.
Setting the plate on the table first, R'en then follows by pulling out the chair and sinking into it with a drawn out sigh of someone who's already done too much work for the day that's just begun. The fork is then subsequently picked up and stabbed into a piece of fruit, skewering it and seemingly thoughtless of the fact that his blue gaze is focusing on S'van when he's doing it. "Morning." He offers in return, a warm tenor in his voice though his attention lingers for a moment longer than one might say was customary for a greeting. A quirk of a corner of his mouth follows, "You're looking for more 'woe is me' weyrling work? I could totally assist you with finding some." He arches a brow and then his demeanor lightens even further. "It isn't so bad being a weyrling." He adds, and then turns his attention to Kelani.
"Senior Journeyman R'en." He offers in return to her greeting, before pausing and adding, "Weyrsecond too." Seems he's lacking the knot to prove it for the moment, due to not wearing his riding jacket in the living caverns. "It takes time to learn, but you'll get it. You're going for Trauma, aren't you?" He asks, and for someone that seems to have a notably horrid memory for names, he seems to have more of a penchant for them if he has any interest. Speared fruit now goes into his mouth so he can chew on it, foregoing the conversation on rotting beasties while he's eating.
"I don't blame you," he says honestly. "I wouldn't have wanted to stick around, either, if I were you." Not with Catwin and S'van going at it like they wanted to rip each other's throats out. And who would like rotting seafood? Maybe Aedeluth. He's doing a decent job of making a dent in his breakfast, though mindful of his manners. The stabbed fruit gets a bit of an eyebrow lift, but no comment. Though the words uttered by the Weyrsecond almost require a response. "It's not the work I object to," he protests, "It's the stench and rotting… carcass that may make up that work. That thing on the beach is starting to ooze and bloat. I'd prefer to stay away." The title of 'senior journeyman' does not ear much attention from the weyrling, though the 'weyrsecond' gets a bit of a start from him. Did he know this? He probably should have, though his hastily masked expression probably says he was TOTALLY unaware of who had joined their table until just now.
The introductions and titles from R'en cause Kelani's browse to rise a little and she bobs her head respectfully to him after a moment's pause. "How do you balance all that?" She asks at first, perhaps betraying some thoughts on the subject. As he gives way the knowledge of her chosen speciality she nods to him,looking a little surprised again, "Yes Sir, I have taken a liking to trauma and emergency medicine…but.." She taps the book, "Some of these diseases…the work that went into figuring them out…well I am finding it quite intriguing as well. The great puzzle.." She starts and looked about ready to continue on that line of thought before she looks over to S'van and gives a sheepish smile. "Sorry, forget myself sometimes." There is another nose wrinkle at the mention of the beast, "I am waiting for it to explode…the whole weyr covered in its innards. The way its all bloated up, we can't be far off."
"You'd be the person that someone having an emergency would see before they even bothered to fetch me. I'm in surgery." R'en says, his gaze lingering on Kelani as though weighing her with nothing more than his eyes since obviously, their paths haven't seemed to have crossed before. He scrunches his nose at the thought of studying the diseases more than he already has, and shakes his head. "I'm not really that interested in disease, I like things that I can see that need to be fixed, rather than things I have to try and guess how they came about." He admits, stabbing another piece of fruit onto the fork as though it were just his normal way of eating, rather than having any other meaning. Another piece of fruit, a bit of juice gathering at the corner of his mouth that he wipes away with his other hand before nudging some of the other pieces around on the plate looking for something in particular.
"A lot of people are having to deal with things they'd prefer not to. I doubt it's anyone's dream to have a rotting corpse around." R'en says, scrunching his nose but then drawing a breath that ends in a sigh afterwards. There's a hint of a grin at the start he earns out of S'van. "I know I'm not as well known as I could be, but I have been -busy-. I rarely get much of a social allowance for time." He says with a wink to the pair of them, then sighs. "I'm sure it'll be taken care of sooner or later, it's just a matter of time."
Poor fruit. Stabbed in its prime. As the conversation turns to thinks of which the weyrling knows not, S'van will simply focus on his own breakfast. Having reached a point were gnawing hunger has been sated, he's much more deciding in what goes into his fork and what gets ignored. Namely, those 'good for you' things are casually nudged aside as he focuses on the fattier, greasier bits. A quick little 'stab stab' of his own, and he's set. Grey eyes glance up, go between Kelani and R'en, before he takes that bite of food into his mouth. A shake of his head for Kelani's concern, a quick "Don't worry 'bout it," because it doesn't appear to be bothering him in the least. A low grunt of acknowledgement for R'en before he swallows. "Maybe not, but that hasn't stopped people from flocking around to poke at it." Startled he may have been, though at least he has recovered quickly and is not sitting like a wide-eyed idiot for having a figure of authority so near. Not exactly the model weyrling, this one. "No doubt," for being busy. "I'd imagine running a Weyr is a full time job." And why yes, that is definitely a grin that he tries to hide behind the next bite he takes.
Kelani grins at R'en, "Well I will try to do a good job so I don't leave you too much to do." She says with a bob of her head, "Been talking with a dolphineer about joining for search and rescue missions once I become a journeyman. I just need to learn how to swim better first." She says with a sheepish smile at her deficiency in this area. At that point she starts to gather her books into her bag, "I best get on to the infirmary. S'van if you do have to help please wear face protection…I hate for you to get all sick for getting bits of it in your eyes or mouth." He has shown protective tendancies towards her now its her turn to return them. "I will see you around…good luck." She says as she rises and races off to her duties at the infirmary.
Silent for a while, R'en watches as Kelani gathers up her things while he continues poking fruit and sticking it in his mouth. It's after a few more have been chewed that he actually picks up the meat roll, and appears to be somewhat opposite S'van in that he's actually eating some of the good for you things before even bothering with the less good for you things. "Yeah, make sure you don't walk around gape mouthed when you're going past the bloated carcass. That'd be no good." He agrees, giving Kelani a bit of a chuckle, and lifting a hand to see her off to the infirmary like he's done probably a million times before himself. But, he's not quite yet looking to escape social contact with others.
"You know you're supposed to salute the Weyrsecond, right? I haven't been through the barracks since you all became weyrlings. Though, I do like seeing how weyrlings treat the weyr administration." He says, his ocean blue eyes seeming to have nowhere else to focus on for the moment, so they're giving S'van a look over again. "You never know if you'll end up being it, so I'd expect you to treat them as you'd want to be treated yourself. I wasn't much older than you when I was Weyrleader at Igen."
Kelani is abandoning him, and S'van can only a quick, "I will," for the charge to wear protection, and another equally quick, "Bye," before she's darting off to the infirmary. R'en is eyed slightly, as though he is trying to figure out if the mouth-agape comment was meant to be a joke. The chuckle seems to decide him, and there's a reversion of his attention back to his picked-apart plate. "I don't generally make it a habit to walk around with my mouth open," he notes, "so I think I'll be fine remember that bit of advice." Stab-stab, and then he freezes. A great debate is waged internally on whether or not he ought to salute now that attention has been called to his lack of decorum. It ends with a bit of a sigh, the putting down of his fork and the lifting of his hand for a good and proper salute. Better late than never. "Didn't know you were administration," he admits needlessly. "wasn't an intentional slight, sir." At least his voice is honest, and not at all sarcastic or irritated. The idea of being Weyrleader at his age is cause for mild concern, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as he considers this option. "That sounds terrible."
There's something in the way that R'en watches that shows he knows what he's looking for - the correct rise of the salute when it's given to make sure that it's not just one given half-heartedly or sloppily. The sigh is also noted, before the action which gets him to raise a brow but there's nothing said outwardly regarding it, just the knowledge that it was caught. "Well, now you know. No more excuses." He quips, though there's a faint smile afterwards that proves that he's not quite as much of a hardass as it might seem at first. The fruit again is given his full attention after the meat roll is devoured, seems he certainly enjoys the roll more than the other.
"Sindrieth's flown plenty of golds, none of which I wanted him to. It's not the rider's choice, after all, so it's not like you can stand in front of him and tell him not to and have him listen. Some riders try, but I think they look more foolish than anything else." R'en says, drawing in a breath and then letting it out slowly. "Impressing bronze mean you have that possibility. So, might as well get as comfortable with it in your mind as you can." He says, nudging his plate aside now that it's completely cleaned off. Lifting a hand, he rubs his hand over a shoulder, trying to get a muscle cramp out of the shoulder. "What -do- you want to do, once you graduate?"
"Won't happen again," says the weyrling, honest enough if just a bit short with that sentiment. A tightness to his jaw, lips pressed thin as he stabs a bit of breakfast with a little more force than is strictly necessary. "I know well enough there is no controlling a dragon when his mind is set at something," comes easily and maybe a bit too impassioned to be considered conversational. "Aedeluth is young and inexperienced. I doubt he will be successful in flying anything for Turns," says the weyrling, more to convince himself than because he honestly believes it. To those that have turned their attention to the weyrlings, it would be no secret that Aedeluth is gifted in the air, if not on the ground. "I don't know," he says honestly, of what he wishes to do. "I haven't thought that far ahead. One day at a time." And another stab-stab before he puts his mouth to something other than speaking, gaze cast determinedly elsewhere for the moment.
"It is true that Wingleaders tend to keep their eyes on the weyrlings to get an idea of their fit within their wing. Who to pick to tap." R'en says, though his tone sounds a little more stern than it might usually. "But, I like riders themselves to have some ambitions of their own based on their dragon's abilities and their own. You need to think about the future because time flies so fast. You're already flying, it's not long before you're in your own weyr, and then not much longer before a Wingleader will tap you into their wing." He says, starting to stack the cutlery on the plate he'd brough over and pushing himself to his feet.
He stands fully, his frame lean and long rather than stocky and his waist hugged by a low slung pair of pants that threaten to roll past his hipbone if he moves just right. They don't, though, and he reaches to tug his shirt into place before he takes the plate from the table. "One day at a time works through a crisis, or through major changes in life. This isn't that kind of thing, it's your future. If you don't, then I'll be sure to make sure you're assigned to a wing that will make you wish you were more direct and firm with your desires." He says, narrowing his gaze before there's a charming smile. Odd timing for one, though there it is none the less. Just about then someone wanders in to draw his attention away, and the plate he's gathered is given to the girl as though his next movement will be to depart.
Whether it was meant to be insulting or inspiring, the weyrling is clearly going to take it as the former. A sour expression, barely contained, and the tension in his jaw just increases for his supposed lack of ambition. There are words he wants to say; they hover at the tip of his tongue and clearly show in his expression, though he does a good job biting back anything that would end in disaster. His plate is a safer place to focus his attention, though he does not miss the Weyrleader's standing, grey eyes flashing up briefly before he goes back to staring at his fork like it might tell him his future. A breath in, mouth open as if to speak, and then the audible click of teeth as he decides against it. Nope. Nothing to be said in this moment that would do anything but seal his fate in a way he is trying to avoid. A grunt of acknowledgement, neutral enough to not be rude, and then a flat, "understood." Whatever else he want to say, to defend himself or not, is left in his head. The first meeting with the Weyrsecond is likely not the time to speak up with anything more than deference. "Yes, sir," and a lift of his eyes as the bronzerider goes to depart. Once he has moved on, there is a noticeable slump as tension releases and he finds himself blessedly alone.