T'nar watches Baedanth return quickly to his side.
C'daer, bearing a stack of hides very carefully and reverently, steps out of the weyrlingmaster staff's office. He puts them down on the table by the door, and glances around. "Lesson time," he calls, for those who aren't already beginning to gather.
E'tren is slow, but at least responsive as he slides away from Vith's reclining form, the dragonet looking freshly oiled and perhaps just a touch sleepy.
Ilesyn wipes excess oil off of her hands, rubbing them on her breeches, head lifting to acknowledge C'daer's announcement as she makes to stride towards the table.
Sarine looks up from where she's sitting near Kiaseth's sleeping form, and puts down the hide she's looking at. She walks over to where the others are gathering.
T'nar walks towards C'daer, a yawning Baedanth stalwartly following his human. Last traces of oil are rubbed from T'nar's hands into neckridges as they both settle down, quietly waiting.
"Today," Daer says, obviously relishing his words, "we are going to talk about tact, politeness, diplomacy, rank, and etiquette, a subject which I am sure you are all most eager to learn about. So. Who can tell me what tact is?"
"Lying, rather than speaking the truth," drawls Ilesyn, once she's slumped into her seat - she looks tired. She always looks tired.
T'nar glanced around before answering. "Diplomacy and discretion in using it."
Avila ambles in from the Weyrling field.
Tact? E'tren doesn't usually have much of that, perferring to be blunt as all get out. Therefore, he remains quiet as he slides in closer to the group but hangs back with his arms crossed over his chest.
Sarine turns to Ilesyn and smiles at her comment before turning her attention back on C'daer. "Knowing when to say something, and how?"
Avila sidles in. Late. Yup. Just right for a class on tact. She smiles apologetically to C'daer and cants her head. "Don't worry, C'daer. I know /all/ about tact."
C'daer clears his throat and says, mildly, "Something you could stand to learn about, Ilesyn, really. Yes, T'nar, that's pretty much it." He eyeballs Avila, disbelieving. "Let's talk about rank. You all know that the Weyrleader is at the top with the Sr. Weyrwoman just beneath, but can anyone tell me who's next, and who after that?"
Ilesyn's expression is pure innocence. "Surely not. I don't believe in coating the truth in sweetener. At least then people know exactly what I think about them." She shrugs her shoulders in response to the next question; apparently, she doesn't much care.
T'nar considers, and then speaks again. "The Weyrsecond, and then the Junior Queenriders?" A small half-smile to Ilesyn.
"The Weyrsecond, of course," E'tren speaks up for a moment, his brows arching slightly as his expression gets that fuzzy look of Vith speaking to him. Seems someone isn't quite asleep yet.
Sarine doesn't add anything, just nods. Apparently she agrees with whatever's been said. A glance goes from Avila to C'daer, a small smile appearing for a moment on her lips.
Baedanth rumbles softly, crooking his head slightly towards T'nar - and the man nods. "Though I /believe/ the Weyrwoman has more authority inside the Weyr proper, and the Weyrleader more outside the Weyr... and in Threadfall."
Leaning his butt on the table, C'daer inclines his head. "There are situations where the Weyrwomen have rank over the Weyrleader, and for juniors, the Weyrsecond. Now - who ranks whom: me, the Weyrlingmaster, or a Wingleader?"
"Aren't you about the same?" hazards Ilesyn, after a pause. "You have more rank over us, but they have more rank over wingriders, and the two don't really meet."
T'nar nods at Ilesyn. "Except to confer about likely Weyrlings for transfer into Fighting Wings."
Sarine says "What do you mean? You are the Weyrlingmaster so you can't rank yourself.""
C'daer rephrases slightly, "Me - the Weyrlingmaster. Ilesyn's got it in one. After that, it's easier - just Wingleader, Wingsecond, Wingrider, Weyrling. Now. Can anyone tell me the rules of proper address in terms of rank, titles, and ma'am-sirring?" He arches an eyebrow; here's one they may not know quite so easily.
Ilesyn's shoulders are given a lazy, ambivalent shrug; her eyelids flutter, as if to confirm her lack of knowledge - and caring - as she slouches down into her seat. Her hands are crossed in front of her, head tilted to the side.
Avila stands tall, and clears her throat. "Well, C'daer... it doesn't really matter to them, does it? Because we're Farnath, Rubkat and the stars themselves for this crew until graduation. And I prefer being addressed by my full title. Assistant Weyrlingmaster Avila Ma'am! With a salute, of course."
Titles, we don't need no stinking titles! E'tren is utterly silent on this one, leaning back slightly as if he doesn't care to be noticed. After all, he barely remembers to salute at this late date.
"Can you expand upon that question, Weyrlingmaster? It needs more detail," T'nar murmurs.
Sarine ahs and nods. "Heard that wrong, sorry. Um...you use a specific title if you know it, sir or ma'am if you don't?"
C'daer frowns as he looks around. "You don't know? Nor you?" He gives a tiny snort of disgust, then lightens a little. "Correct, Sarine. When else should you use ma'am or sir? And what, T'nar, do you mean by detail?"
T'nar explains, "I didn't fully understand the question... Until Sarine clarified." Baedanth snorts softly, his eyes half-lidded.
Sarine thinks a few more moments. "When you're addressing people outside of the Weyr, either those that come here or elsewhere when we're allowed to leave the Weyr?"
Ilesyn's expression appears to be more amused than anything, at C'daer's snort of disgust, and she lounges. "Never, in my opinion. Surely knots aren't that difficult to read."
Shaking his head, "Incorrect, Sarine." C'daer then mentions to Ilesyn, "And if they're naked? You can't see their knot then, unless they.. never mind." He harrumphs and continues. "No, you use sir and ma'am when you don't know someone's rank, or you may use it in casual conversation after you have greeted the person by their proper rank."
Ilesyn snickers, undaunted. "Unless they what, Weyrlingmaster?" she requests, all innocence. "When I'm naked with someone, I usually know who they are - or I've got other things on my mind. Bathing caverns don't count."
Sarine ahs and shrugs. "Makes sense. Unless they've said you can call them something else? Or do you have to call them by their title or sir/ma'am each time you greet them until they say it's alright not to for that time?"
Avila nods an affirmative to Ilesyn. "There's no excuse for you not to address me properly then. You could throw a 'Greenrider' in there, too. Just to be sure." C'daer gets a slow look, and then she turns to comment. "Well, C'daer, I suppose dealing with naked people is something you've got lots of experience with, but for the most of us, we know the people we get naked with enough to know their ranks. And addressing them properly usually isn't an issue then anyway.
T'nar only smiles dryly, watching the proceedings around him.
C'daer's fingers twitch slightly. "I'm getting there, Sarine, really," he says, and hurries to talk over Avila, trying to drown her out. "Anyway! You should also use proper ranks when you're on duty. Who can tell me what the four conditions are when you can use a person's name?"
"I assure you that it is not required that one get naked with their superiors," E'tren says aloud, though his voice is held low as his gaze slides off to one side where Vith lays. "When they say you can?"
T'nar murmurs, "When that person has given you explicit permission to do so - and informed the 'Leaders and the Weyrlingmasters of their choice; When they order you to use their name..." A small shrug.
Sarine smiles. "The only one I thought of was if they say you can, so..." She shrugs and glances at the other weyrlings.
Ilesyn opens her mouth to say something - and then, apparently, thinks better of it, and shuts it again.
C'daer prompts, "That's only one." He drums his fingers on the desk. "These aren't hard, you know. Avila? What's another? And don't you dare say 'when you're both naked' or I'll put you on butchering supervision for the next eight months."
Sarine hmms and thinks again. "How about while participating in a Flight?"
T'nar nods at Sarine, but remains silent, waiting for enlightenment.
Avila turns to C'daer. "Well, if you call J'van Sir, you'll get midden duty. So it's when they want you to call them something else. And..well... to be honest. If you're in the middle of threadfall and you yell out a name without a Sir or Ma'am at the end, no one's going to call you up on it the next morning. If you're still alive after thread." She gives a sage look all around the classroom.
Ilesyn's expression darkens, at mention of threadfall, and she turns her head away, her hands clasped more tightly within her lap.
C'daer ticks off on his fingers. "Family. Close friends. If they ask you to. And, if they are of equal or lesser rank than yourself. I hardly hear you going around hollering, 'Weyrling Rehbekah! Come over here.' You see? And yes. When Weyrleader J'van gives you permission, he means it."
T'nar rubs at a slightly scruffy chin. "Though i'd guess that one hould always err on the side of formailty when in mixed company, eh?"
A haughty voice pipes up from the background, "That's Renbekrah, SIR." The sir is pointedly not very respectful.
Sarine blinks towards the voice, and tries to hide the smile that's appearing as she glances back at the Weyrlingmaster to see his reaction to it.
E'tren rolls his shoulders a touch. "My problem is that half my family /is/ a higher rank than I." You know, like S'vilen, K'dir, Sisala... his mother too, for that matter.
"Of course, Rebenkah," Daer says, absently, and sighs slightly. "E'twen, I've just got done saying that you can call family by their names. Pay attention!" The last is sharp. "And that's not an issue. Age has nothing to do with rank."
Avila laughs a little. "If you ever see my da, you don't have to call him Sir. He'd be the porcine farmer every one is avoiding in the back of the tavern swinging his pint and singing as loudly as he can, "The Lusty Maids of Tillek" You'll be able to tell who he is by the odor. Porcine scent kind of clings, you know?
"E'tren," E'tren automatically corrects without the appropriate sir, for it seems that that still hasn't quite sunk in yet. "...and does that still apply even if they're the Weyrsecond?"
Ilesyn's eyes are rolled, though she says nothing - perhaps that's a glowering expression, though.
Osasune's nose twitches, and she slings one arm over Caledoth's neck, listening with wide eyes.
T'nar has no need to stir the pot any further, so he simply leans against the dozing Baedanth's shoulder, eyeing both Weyrlingmasters in turn.
Sarine just stays quiet for now, though she does stay alert for any new questions.
A twitch of Daer's eyebrow, "And I believe I also just said rank should also be used when on duty, E.. E'tren. So when you're on duty, he's weyrsecond; when you aren't, he's S'vilen. Unless you called him Weyrsecond before you impressed." He perches on the desk, "Time to move on to the role-playing, unless there are any questions."
T'nar shakes his head. "None here."
E'tren doesn't call anyone by the correct title half the time, so it's most likely he never called S'vilen 'Weyrsecond'. Shrugging slightly, he sways slightly to the right and leans up against the wall.
Sarine raises an eyebrow. "Roleplaying?" She looks around at the nearby candidates, perhaps trying to find out what's about to happen.
Ilesyn shakes her head, although she, too, lifts her eyebrow at mention of roleplaying - questioningly.
"Roleplaying?" Osasune mumbles perplexedly.
C'daer's voice is heavy with glee. "All right then. The situation: You, Sarine, are on message duty to Benden Hold. You hand a message to the Headwoman - Ilesyn, you be the Headwoman. Now it has her name on the outside, but it's actually to her fourteen-turn daughter, who is - you, E'tren, you're there too - the handwriting's bad and their names are very similar. It's a rather descriptive love letter from a bluerider. Go to it! Come stand up front."
Ilesyn's jaw drops, as if unhinged. "Uh," she begins, and then breaks off, drawing herself from her chair to move towards the front. "C'daer--" whoops, she forgot her sir, and her title, but she doesn't seem to be fussed, "This is /so/ wrong," she mutters.
Sarine blinks and stands up, turning to face Ilesyn as she waits for the other to do the same. In the meantime she looks a bit perplexed and turns to C'daer. "If I'm just delivering a message, I wouldn't knowwhat the subject is, since I wouldn't read it."
E'tren twitches slightly, but pushes off from the wall and saunters his way up to the front. "Are you trying to say I'm the fourteen year old girl?"
Osasune stuffs her hand in front of her mouth and tries very, very hard to muffle her giggles.
T'nar refuses to let himself laugh, since he knows he'll be next - however, Baedanth utters the dragon equivalent of a snort of luaghter.
C'daer nods assent to E'tren, and tells Sarine, "You give it to her, and she reads it, see. While you're still there."
E'tren rolls his eyes up ceilingwards and stands there, arms ever more firmly crossed over his narrow chest. Yes, he's the /perfect/ person to play the part of a fourteen turn old girl.
Avila smiles sweetly to E'tren. "Yes, you are. And apparently, you're having a thing with a bluerider. And your ma's about to find out about it in a very descriptive letter." Avila grins, leaning against the wall. "It's kind of like "Passion on the Sands" when Flirta's mother found out about her... evenings with B'rany when she overheard the stablehands talking about finding them in the hayloft. That was rather descriptive, too."
E'tren murmurs in a droll tone, "Thanks for the information Avila, I'm sure it'll come in handy." Not.
Sarine ahs at C'daer. "Um..okay." She turns back ti Ilesyn and smiles at her though she looks a bit flushed; she seems a bit uncomfortable being in front of the rest of the class. "Fort Weyr's duties to Bendon Hold. I have a message here that I believe is meant for you." She holds out her hand as if she actually had a message held in it.
"Benden Hold's duties to Fort Weyr," returns Ilesyn, unwillingly - montonously. She stands uncomfortably, staring at Sarine's hand, but apparently forgetting to continue the play by 'taking' the letter.
T'nar watches intently.
C'daer settles back to watch, looking quite frankly delighted. "Priss a little, E'tren, you're fourteen," he coaches.
Osasune leans forward, watching with apparent interest.
E'tren fiendishly pretends that the fourteen turn old girl isn't paying attention and thereby... doesn't pay attention.
Avila sighs. "E'tren. Think about this! Your ma is about to read a very detailed letter from your blueriding sweetheart. You'd just stand there staring out the window? I think not!" Avila's into this coaching thing. "You'd be terrified. You'd be trying so hard not to act upset, but... would you snatch it out of her hand? Would you try to distract her? Nooo... I tell you, E'tren. You make a /lousy/ fourteen turn old girl!"
Sarine puts her hand down eventually with a frown. She watches the others watching her and her frown deepens before turning back to Ilesyn with a smile. "Good day to you ma'am." She turns and grins at C'daer. "If she doesn't open it there, I'm off the hook, right?" She's definitely hoping.
Ilesyn shakes her head. "Headwoman," she corrects. "Do I /look/ old enough to be a ma'am?" Regardless of the fact that she has a fourteen turn old daughter, and all. "Who on Pern has such awful handwriting? E't-- Etrenia? Come read it aloud for me." A trumphant grin crosses her face, rather amused.
"It's in a handwriting that looks somewhat familiar, and it's addressed to her personally, not her as Headwoman, remember? Or, it would be, if it were adressed to her. So she'll open it there. Go on, Ilesyn, open that and start reading. Now.. you're going to blame the messenger, because that's always what happens." Daer looks over at Avila with a grin. Then, he puts his hand over his mouth hearing Ilesyn's words. "Ow!"
E'tren turns slightly to make a false little bow toward Avila as he says, "Why thank you, I'll take that as a compliment." Then he turns again, brows drawing together as he sidles up behind Ilesyn ... trying not to get too close to... it. "Would if I could, but I know... why I don't take it to the hold Harper and have him translate it?" Yeahhhh... so he can sneak off with it.
Sarine smiles at Ilesyn. "I apologize for any offense taken Headwoman." She watches the conversation between Ilesyn and E'tren with faint amusement, even if she's stuck up there longer.
Avila is quite into this roleplay thing. "Make the letter really juicy, Ilesyn. You know.. like telling of her breathless passion and her heaving bosom and all that stuff." She glances over to E'tren. "You'd probably be heaving your bosom a bit as your mother read that letter, too, I'd wager."
Ilesyn shakes her head. "I'm not reading the sharding letter. E'tren is reading it. Aloud. To me. Because I'm old and my eyes are failing." She smiles prettily - well, what would be pretty if she actually had a pretty smile - at E'tren, adding, "No, no, I'd like you do it, dear. It would take time, and I don't want to keep this nice little weyrling here too long, if I have a reply."
T'nar coughs to hide his grin as Baedanth watches with interest - half-lidded interest, that is.
E'tren gives Avila a sour look from over Ilesyn's shoulder. "I'd have to have one to do it, first, Avila..." Then he turns back to the 'roleplay' at hand, feeling his stomach going sour as he squinches up his brows and mutters under his breath, then replies, "Yes, mother dear." Ewwww.. perish the thought. "The Weyr requests that the Hold arrange for more fish from the Seahold be sent with the next tithe." Yeah, that's it... that's the ticket.
C'daer taps his fingers on his knees, a bit impatient, and sings out, "We could fix that, E'nwen, if anyone has a couple of socks."
E'tren automatically corrects, "E'tren."
Avila sighs dramatically. "You've all missed the point! This just drips with romance scroll possibility! Fish for tithes?" She looks sorely disappointed. "Wheres' the swooning? The shouting? the heaving?" Avila's more than a little annoyed at how this has all worked out.
Sarine chuckles. "I think that's going to far for the character." She grins at E'tren's explanation of what was on the scroll and waits for Ilesyn's reaction to that as she sits quietly and patiently...for the most part.
Ilesyn pipes up, rather too cheerful, with, "Socks. Good idea." 'In character' - as much as she is at all, she continues, "But dear... That's the domain of the Steward. Nothing to do with me."
T'nar can only shake his head. This has gone beyond him - and Bae, too, it seems. The bored brown is asleep.
C'daer directs, "Avila - Avila, why don't you be the hapless person sitting nearby who the Headwoman grabs to read the scroll to her, then?"
E'tren hmmphfs at C'daer, becuase he already 'read' it.
Avila grins and starts to head forward. Oh, she's so love to embarrass that fourteen turn girl over there.. but she gets halfway across the room and she freezes. "Umm... C'daer... there's a weyrling that's got a horrible stomach ache. I think he might have swallowed firestone wrong again. I think I'd better go..." She sighs, turning. "But there's lots about heaving bosoms and longing glances in that letter, Ilesyn."
C'daer groans. "All right, all right. Dismissed - it's that time anyway. Tomorrow's lesson will be more role-playing, and examples of how -not- to do it." He says reproachfully, mostly to E'tren, "You could have been a tad more imaginative."
Sarine smiles at E'tren. "That seemed imaginative to me, if I were the girl I would have made something up too. Smart."
Ilesyn grimaces. "I'm rather glad I missed hearing a recitation of /that/ particular letter," she mutters, flouncing (in a graceless, careless kind of way) back towards her couch and Nallath - who seems underenthused with her, whuffling quietly.
E'tren squints slightly. "It's not like the girl would want to be /caught/... seems creative enough to me."
T'nar covers his snigger with a hand, nodding at E'tren then C'daer. Baedanth snuffles his rider softly, and stands up, waiting for T'nar to lead the way back to their couch - yawning with obvious boredome.
Sarine looks in the direction her lifemate was sleeping before, and smiles lovingly. "Kiaseth is waking up, I'll see you later." With that she heads in that direction.
C'daer harrumphs, and turns to his stack of hides to tidy them up, watching the weyrlings disperse. "Well. It wasn't too bad," he grumbles.
"Don't give me that look," E'tren comments to Vith as he turns away from the others and moves quickly away before someone can point out that he hasn't done one of his chores yet today. "Tonight, I sleep, no practice!"
Glancing up, Daer purses his lips and then moves off towards the office, nodding towards the weyrlings still in his area.
Posted by Louise at January 29, 2003 05:00 PM