Crackin' the Whip

Western Weyr - Lagoon Shore
A sandy beach running along the edge of the lagoon, between the sparkling waters and the bowl. Sometimes riders and dragons are seen playing in the water nearby or a dolphin can be seen cavorting. At other times seacraft can be seen coming in under the arch to dock. The lagoon is large enough to fill a quarter of the length of the bowl. A path winds out along a ledge out to the docks to the southwest, the lagoon to the west and the bowl to the east.

Late afternoon has settled over Western, and there's yet another day of drills completed by Archipelago Wing. Only the wingleader remains on the sands of the beach with her lifemate, looking even plumper around the middle than ever. She's leaning against Indianath's side where the big brown lies comfortably, flipping pages back and forth on a clipboard and making little marks here and there.

Kimmila has been summoned? Varmiroth glides down to land, the blue drooping tiredly as he flexes his wings and settles to his belly, tilting a bit so his rider can dismount. Kimmila is dressed in her riding gear, and once her feet are on the ground she's removing her helmet and pushing back stray bits of hair from her face. "You called?"

"I did." If Rou'x's nervous about giving her first dressing-down, she doesn't show it as she pushes off Indianath's side and steps towards the bluerider. She too is in her riding gear; or part of it, anyway. Leathers and a shirt, with her jacket tied around her waist - it doesn't help to hide those massive hips of hers, though. "Kimmila, you've been missin’ in every drill I've led so far. Is there a reason for that? I'd ask if you're unfit f’ duty, only you've reported f’ sweeps…" A page is flipped over on her clipboard, "An’ y’ stood in when H'ry wasn't able to fly last sevenday…"

Kimmila stands steady on her feet, hands in her pockets and watching her new Wingleader with an absent sort of curiosity. She knows why she's here - she's surprised it's taken this long, honestly. "There is," she answers with a nod. "And no, we're not unfit for duty." They're actually quite good at search and rescue. Especially tracking and tricky flying.

Rou'x is, of course, curious to know what the answer is. She rests the clipboard on one hip and her hand on the other, cocking her stance slightly to favour her left leg. "Well, are y'gonna spill the beans for me or what, Kimmila? Cos you know I gotta call you up for it… n' I've prob'ly gotta go report to Zi'on too, since I'm doin' this under his n' A'wrn's supervision still."

Kimmila's nose wrinkles as a slight expression of distaste crosses her features at the mention of Zi'on. "I don't think they're necessary," she says with a shrug. "Varmiroth and I have been in this wing for turns, we've had no incidents of bad behavior or a botched duty, we've never missed a sweep. Why the need to continually prove ourselves competent at a job we already do well?"

"I reckon by doin' your sweeps n' comin' up smellin' roses when y'out doin' your job is provin' that you're both 'competent'," Rou'x responds, a little stiffly. Her honey-coloured eyes narrow as she looks at the bluerider, and she shifts her weight again, distributing it more evenly. "Drillin' ain't about provin' nothin'. It's about /learnin'/, n' /perfectin'/, n' makin' sure we're all on the same damned page f' when we gotta go out there n' save some poor bastard. D'you understand that?"

Kimmila snorts. "If we come back smelling like roses then we're /not/ doing our job," she says, purposefully misunderstanding that description. She arches a brow at her Wingleader. "When you come up with something that we don't know, then Varmiroth and I will be there. Until then, I maintain that they're an utter waste of time and will not be going. We know how to fly, we know how to maintain formations, we know how to do a sea rescue, a building rescue, a wagon rescue on the edge of a cliff…and all the other types of rescues that the Wingleader of this wing managed to think up over the turns."

Rou'x puffs out her chest a little, brow furrowing deeply. "I don't reckon you're gettin' the meanin' of us havin' this little talk." The clipboard is tapped against her thigh, and she mulls over what she's about to say for a moment before letting it loose. "You, wingrider, are /expected/ to attend your drills, unless you are unfit for duty. Since y'went n' clarified that you're perfectly capable of takin' part in everythin' we're doin', I'll expect t'see you here tomorrow, an hour after dawn, with everyone else. An', if y' ain't here, I'll be takin' disciplinary action against you. Y'get it now, bluerider?"

Kimmila smirks slightly, clearly not at all impressed by Rou'x's puffing up. Kimm really can be a bitch when she wants to be. "I understand this situation just fine, Wingleader. I'm telling you I won't be here. So you might as well doll out that discipline right here and now, and save us both some time and trouble."

"Fine." Rou'x's getting flustered! The brownrider digs a balled fist into her hip stubbornly, trying not to let it show that she's not sure how to /properly/ deal with this situation. "Bluerider Kimmila, you're grounded. You're not to leave Western Weyr until you're told otherwise by myself, the Weyrwoman, Weyrleader or Weyrsecond." She pauses as a thought hits her, then smirks. "You're havin' all your privileges revoked, too… Y'can move back into the weyrling barracks. I'll getcha a knot t'match your new accommodation. When y'show me that you're capable of comin' t'drills, I'll start givin' shit back to ya. Bit by bit."

Kimmila crosses her arms over her chest and smirks right back at Rou'x. "So…who is going to cover all those sweeps that Varmiroth and I so admirably do? I'm covering for Y'vete tomorrow at dawn, too. Oh, and J'nah next sevenday when he goes to his grandmother's 100th turnday party. And I'm also on the list to cover /your/ sweeps, when that's born," she adds, nodding to the bump in Rou'x's middle. "So…you sure about that? Varmiroth and I sitting on our asses in the barracks doesn't seem like a good use of one of your riders."

"/Weyrling/ Kimmila, I'll remind you that this here's a Wingleader's knot," Rou'x taps the insignia on her shoulder, "n' as a weyrling, you're expected t' show respect to them who's rankin' higher than you. You're also expected t' follow orders, which've been laid out clear for you. Unless you din't hear me the first time, n' need me to repeat myself?"

Kimmila shrugs. "Suit yourself," she says, and she turns to walk away. "I need to go move into my /spacious/ new accommodations, and get ready for the next batch of fellow Weyrlings to show up."

Rou'x clears her throat as Kimmila turns to leave, pressing her hands more firmly into her hips. "Your knot, weyrling. You'll hand it over t' me now. Weyrlin' rules apply, Kimmila. No booze, no sex, no leavin' the Weyr. Varmiroth can fly t'hunt, but unless you're coming back here t' take part in my drills, y'ain't to fly /nowhere/. An' if he goes up after some green, tough shit f'you. I hope you're friendly wi' y' hand."

Kimmila waves a flippant hand over her shoulder. "My knot is in my weyr, I'll send it to you." She never wears it. "No booze, no sex, no being useful, got it!" Lucky for her, Varmiroth doesn't chase.

"No flying to your weyr, either," Rou'x shouts out after the bluerider. "R'oy'll be by t'take you up later f' clothin' n' shit, but that'll be it! You ain't got no more weyr after t'day, Kimmila, not until y'start doin' what you're obligated t'do!"

Kimmila wants to shout out something very rude and derogatory. But what she says instead is, "Have a nice day, Rou'x!" Then she's on the path back to the weyr, while Varmiroth kicks into the sky to soar after her. Small he may be, but the paths aren't large enough for him to walk, too.

Rou'x watches the two of them leave, then returns to Indianath's side, leaning heavily against him. The brown croons softly, though his gaze is fixed on Varmiroth until the blue is no longer visible. Only then does Rou'x head off down the path herself, headed to Zi'on, no doubt.

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