Kourieth wings in from the southwestern sky.
C'daer gently swings down from Kourieth's neck, leaving the warmth of his hide behind.
Up to her knees in water, Ilesyn is bathing Nallath, teeth chattering. The brown appears unconcerned, but the brownrider is griping, audibly. "You /would/ have to get dirty. It's too /cold/ for this." She wraps her arms about herself, spraying herself with water as her sponge is squelched against her shirt.
Kourieth lands with a no-nonsense thump and turns his head to regard C'daer as the rider scrambles down and undoes his straps. "Hi," he calls over towards Ilesyn. "A bit cold for that - all /right/, go!" And Kourieth splashes in beside Nallath happily.
"I think I'm jealous that they can /want/ to get into the water at this temperature," remarks Ilesyn, turning her head to greet C'daer with a short nod of her head. She ducks out of the way of Kourieth's splashings as best she can -- not that it makes much difference; she's pretty soaked through as it is -- taking a few steps back, to a rumble from Nallath, water rippling about him. "I'm /cold/, you," she mutters at the brown.
C'daer settles down in the sand just beyond the reach of the water. Regarding Nallath thoughtfully, "You know, there's always making him get wet and come out on shore for you to scrub - rinse, repeat. Not quite as thorough, but can't be picky in this weather. I wish it would stop raining all the time," he complains. "It's depressing."
Ilesyn backs up onto the sand, shaking herself off and grasping at a towel. "I hadn't though of that," she gripes, turning her attention back towards C'daer. "How come you never passed on these words of wisdom when we were weyrlings?" Her eyes lift towards the sky, and she comments, "Sometimes I like to walk in the rain. But when it's all day, every day, and I have to-- there's something depressing about it. Wonder how many more people die in the rain, or in winter, than in summer."
"Because generally the weyrlings bathe in the barracks in cold weather, and then when they're big enough they go somewhere warm," Daer points out, pulling his jacket a bit closer. Watching his bronze wallow happily, he gives a soft snort before replying, "Rain's good for killing Thread, though. Balances out, I suppose."
Ilesyn wraps her towel around her, and leans down to her pile of things to pick up her socks to put them on, as well, huffing. "But it's an important life skill. People get pregnant." Nallath's content to blow bubbles, and splash about, every so often diving under to nudge at another rock. "Yes. I suppose so. It'd be nice to see some sun, though. It's been too long."
With an amused shrug, C'daer answers, "People generally figure it out for themselves, too." He leans back to look over at her, "Well, spring's starting. It should get here sooner rather than later - I hope. Say, I had a question for you."
Ilesyn makes a sound that's something between a huff and a snort, tilting her head to the side. "A question? Well, ask away." Tucking the towel into her breeches, she knots her hair up away from her neck with a piece of string, shaking out the water in it.
"Do you still think I coddle weyrlings?" he asks, laughing, gesturing to the cold water and lifting his eyebrow.
Ilesyn pauses, and then laughs. "Well, weyrlings /do/ bathe in the barracks in cold water," she teases, though her head shakes.
C'daer grins and points out, "Not as cold as the lake in winter, though. Well, how's it going, anyway?" he asks with a sudden change to almost hesitant. "Flying with Aurora and all."
"Oh," says Ilesyn, shrugging. "Okay, I suppose. The Weyrwoman keeps going on about wanting to help and guide me."
Ilesyn adds, after a pause, "Exactly my point. Coddling. They should have the coldest of water."
C'daer's lips twitch. "She is a bit of a mother hen," he agrees, "isn't she. Are you fed up and ready to be in a regular wing yet? I have bets going on how long it'll take." He leans forward, hand poised above the water. "Oh? You want cold water?"
"Seems to think she knows all about how to 'fix' me," gripes Ilesyn, agreeing. "How long have you bet for, so that I can make sure you lose?" she adds, ducking instinctively as she adds, "I've had enough, many thanks!"
C'daer retracts his hand, amused, and starts to draw random lines in the sand instead. "One month, I think, until you get bored out of your skull."
Ilesyn sits up again, stretching out her legs in front of her. "One month," she muses. "You don't seem to have much faith in my tolerance."
"I have faith in you as a person," Daer states simply. "I think you'll get bored quickly and want to move on to something more challenging. You weren't in mindhealing because it was -easy-, were you?"
Ilesyn mmphs, nodding her head slowly. "True," she agrees. "And I'd probably be willing to do /anything/ to stop J'van nattering about my 'progress'. You don't happen to know if I'm going to get stuck in his wing, when I do get properly tapped, do you?"
C'daer shakes his head, "Nope, no idea. I don't think they've decided yet, and if I did know, I'm not supposed to tell you anyway." He hefts a handful of wet sand, and lets it fall off his hand in clumps, watching it. "I take it you'd rather not be."
"Not really," admits Ilesyn, "Though I'm hardly in a position to argue. He'll probably want to keep an eye on me, though." Glumly, she stares out into the lake, shifting her shoulders. "Must be a relief for you to have one less class to worry about," she comments.
"It is. A bit more free time - when you have almost ready to graduate weyrlings, they take a lot more work," he answers, and shrugs. "They're still tapping your class, but all they do with Magma now is drills."
Ilesyn digs her socked toes into the sand, burying them with assistance from her hands, her head nodded. "Until the next class. Is it exhausting, to know that there will never be a real break? Another class to make up for each of them that graduates, turn in, turn out?"
C'daer pulls his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on the left one, his head slightly angled to watch her. "I don't really think of it that way," he muses. "There's a downtime between the really busy periods for each class. And I like teaching. I suppose eventually it'll get tiring, but I'm still pretty new."
Ilesyn turns her body, so as not to sit uncomfortably with her head turned to face him. Her hair is drying, sort of, and going frizzy about her face; she pushes it back out of the way, as it escapes from its binding. "You enjoy what you do. That's important, then."
"Of course I enjoy it - else I wouldn't be doing it," he answers, slightly puzzled. "I don't know why anyone would let themselves be stuck for over two years doing something they hated."
Ilesyn shifts her gaze. There's driftwood upon the beach, and she picks it up, turning it within her hands. "That's good. It's probably the best thing for weyrlings to have - someone who obviously likes doing what they do. Back at the hall, there were some Masters who obviously didn't, and people hated their classes, because they had no passion for it."
C'daer snorts, "Then why, Faranth why, were they even in the Healercraft? Speaking of which, I was wondering if you were going to try to become a dragonhealer. Even if," and a shrug, "it's physical and not mental."
"They liked the healing," Ilesyn is quick to explain, "Just not the teaching. I would've been a horrible teacher, but I loved my craft." Her toes are dug back into the sand, with the aid of the stick, and it's ability to churn the wet sand up around them. "I don't know. I haven't really thought about it."
"Oh. Right." C'daer gets it, and looks slightly embarrassed. "Do Masters have to teach, then? I mean, it makes sense, but if they aren't any good at it, then."
Ilesyn's lips curve into a smile, of sorts, and she nods. "It's expected that they will. To give something back to the craft, while the Journeymen look after the postings and things. I think some of them regret getting their Mastery, though."
C'daer nods, and scoops up another handful of cold wet sand. "I've known plenty of crafters who were quite content to stay Journeyman, until they died, it seemed. Would you have?"
"I hadn't thought that far, really," admits Ilesyn, leaning backwards, using her arms to support her. "I mean, I'd /thought/ about it, but it seemed a ways off. But probably. I never wanted to return to the hall, that's for sure."
"Yeah. -That- is annoying," Daer grouses. "Sanriel got her Mastery, and poof, I didn't see Cedriel for a month." He tosses the sand towards the water, it landing with little blip-blip-blips, and sighs.
Ilesyn's lips twitch again. "You could have turned watchrider, but I suppose Sanriel would have thought of that as a come-on, or a stalking, and that might have ended badly," notes the brownrider.
C'daer pauses, and slits a sideways glance towards the brownrider. He says, amused, "Right. Badly for me, because she would have been all over -that-. Women. Pfeh." And he laughs, quietly, shaking his head.
"She's a romantic. And I think she's lonely," notes Ilesyn, quietly. "Some women - some men, in fact - don't believe that they're complete without a partner. I've had plenty of patients like that."
"She's nice enough, but - not my type." Daer shrugs, and pokes holes into the sand, hunching forward a little. "She just needs to try a little, she'll find somebody."
"You prefer women who aren't quite so obsessive, ambitious, and outspoken," surmises Ilesyn, counting on the fingers of her right hand, as she sits up properly again. "I think she is trying. She just hasn't found the right person, yet."
C'daer looks over his shoulder, just in case, and then mumbles, "I prefer women I'm -attracted- to. It's not a hard idea, you know? I like her as a friend, a lot, I don't mind that she's ambitious."
Ilesyn merely laughs, letting her hands rest within her lap. "Oh, I see. It's all about the looks. No -- I'm not trying to set you up with her, by the way. I think some of the greenriders have a monopoly on that, and I have no intention of doing it contraband."
"It's not just looks," Daer insists, but realizing that he's confusing even himself, snorts and follows the change in subject. "I would hope not. I'm weyrmated. They are? Who is? With who?"
Dump complete, resuming game.
"I hear that three way relationships can be fun," teases Ilesyn, blowing a stray piece of hair away from her face. "I don't know. But there's Avila, for one, and I hear that Sisala's just as bad. I'm considered to be a useless prospect, though, for which I'm thankful."
C'daer wrinkles his nose. "And I hear they keep trying to set K'dir up with women five years older than he is. Hey, aren't you freezing yet? Even Kourie's starting to admit that the water's not the warmest in the world."
Ilesyn is, sure enough, shivering, though she has to query, "With Osa? Of course, it's hard. I mean, K'dir's mature enough, but girls his age or younger mostly aren't. But I think the whole 'setting up' game is silly." She admits, with a bob of her head, "On the verge of becoming an icicle."
"Everyone says girls are more mature than boys until they're thirty," Daer says, in a voice that says he seriously doubts what everyone says. "You want to go lounge in the baths? I need one too. Plus I'm cold, and a bit sandy."
"Different kinds of maturity. Men want sex, girls aren't necessarily emotionally read for it - even if they're more mature in other ways. Would you say that I'm more mature than you are? No," she continues, standing, as if to indicate her agreement to the proposal with the movement, "That's an unfair comparison, I think."
Dump complete, resuming game.
[Monitor] N'veen has disconnected.
C'daer shakes his hand, trying to remove the sand by flinging it off, and pushes himself to his feet. "No, but I might say that I'm more mature than you are," he counters, "in terms of responsibility and accepting things and so forth. Bleck," he adds, and tries wiping the sand off on a boulder.
"Absolutely," Ilesyn agrees, shaking out her towel as she tidies up her things. "That's why I stopped. I'm reasonably mature emotionally, but I'm not a good example in other spheres of life. I'm not really a good example for much, any more."
Ready to go, he stands waiting, careful not to touch his clothes with his hands - never mind that his behind is covered in sand. "Well, that's a funny thing to say. You don't think so? Jalis and J'van are going to have to work on you, young lady."
Ilesyn lets her towel hang over one shoulder, boot laces tied together so that she can swing them about her fingers, taking steps forward. "I know. They're going to have to cure me, so that I can be a model rider for everyone else to see."
You amble northeastwards to the southwest bowl.
"And you're the one always talking about curing people," Daer says with relish. "How's it feel to be on the other end of that?" He grins over at her, skirting a muddy patch carefully.
Ilesyn steps right through that muddy patch, glancing down as if only to notice belatedly that she's still wearing just her socks, which won't last much longer at this rate. "Peculiar," she admits. "Mostly because I don't think I need curing. It's more of a personal 'I need to accept this' thing."
"Think you will, any time soon?" he asks, looking down and wincing at the puddle. "Why didn't you put shoes on? Silly wench. I should carry you."
"It's what I'm trying to do, minus obstacles that seem to be have equated with it. J'van seems to think my making faces at graduation, and going to Fort Hold, make any progress I've made null. I don't see how they're related." Ilesyn gives her socks a dubious glance, then laughs. "Imagine the gossip, then!"
C'daer glances over at her and murmurs, "Well, you really shouldn't have been making faces during his speech, but - oh, gossip. Pfoo. The Weyr needs -something- to talk about," he says cheerfully.
Ilesyn waves her right hand, lazily. "People were nervous. Osa was afraid of making water where she stood. It made them less nervous." Her eyes dance, amused, as she splashes her foot down again. "Well then. If that's what you want to do!"
"Very well," Daer says, and steps over towards Ilesyn, looking her over first, and then awkwardly hefting her up, arms under knees and shoulders. "Oof. You've got muscle." He staggers forward.
Ilesyn retorts, wiggling, "Isn't that what weyrlinghood was for?" She flings her arms back, lazing, watching for people about the bowl.
C'daer harrumphs, and continues to stagger, dramatically, through mud puddles on his way towards the caverns. "If I'd known, I'd have made you skip the exercise."
C'daer walks off northeastwards to the center bowl.
You amble northeastwards to the center bowl.
Ilesyn snorts, amusedly. "If only you /had/! Think about how much easier my life might have been." Her socks drip dirty water as she's carried, spraying downwards.
"Don't sass me or I'll drop you in the mud," Daer threatens playfully. "Want to take the shortcut through the infirmary, or parade through the living cavern?" He pauses, waiting for her answer.
"How gentlemanly. I'll tell everyone you didn't have the strength to carry even an insignificant, light female, if you do," retorts Ilesyn, debating quickly. "Living caverns. Might as well make the whole exercise worthwhile."
C'daer beams. "Off we go. And if you sass me in there, I'll drop you in the soup pot." He hefts her up a little bit, oofs, and strides off. "Or in the Headwoman's lap. That might make more of an impression."
C'daer walks off eastwards to the bright and cheerful living caverns.
Ilesyn, lounging - making the most of this, laughs. "Oh, that would be /hilarious/. Though I'd rather get through this in one piece, and without soup-burns." To the crowded cavern, she smiles her prettiest - if her smile can ever be considered pretty.
"No soup burns? Spoilsport," Daer accuses, and grins widely at those pointing and laughing. "You know they'll think the worst," he murmurs into Ilesyn's ear, halting to let a basketful of laundry go past them in the arms of a giggling girl.
"Without a doubt," agrees Ilesyn, lifting one leg to point the toe daintily - sort of. "Of course," she agrees, sotto voce, "And J'van will accuse me of breaking rules, but I honestly couldn't care less."
C'daer walks off southeastwards to the darker inner cavern.
C'daer laughs, "Oh, J'van. He wouldn't believe me if I tell him nothing happened, probably. Can I put you down now that we're inside? You'll leave tracks, but the headwoman will live."
"I'm doomed, then," comments Ilesyn, though she doesn't sound particularly - indeed, at all - worried at the thought. "Yes, yes, all right. The headwoman doesn't scare me."
Without ceremony he dumps her down, and elaborately stretches. "Owwww. Heavier than firestone. At least I didn't have to toss you."
Ilesyn finds her feet again, and stretches. "Poor bronzerider. All worn out. I guess that means a toss dance at the next gather is out?" She winks, teasing, and turns towards the Eastern Cavern. "C'mon -- I'm /cold."
You amble northeastwards to the eastern cavern.
C'daer ambles in from the inner cavern.
C'daer tells her, hurrying along behind, "It's your own fault. You ought to use that brain once in a while."
"I have more important things to use it for," insists the brownrider, nose in the air. "If I catch cold, I probably won't have to do so many duties, though, so it's all good."
You amble towards to the steamy bathing cavern.
C'daer ambles in from the chill of the hallway.
C'daer snorts, shucking out of his jacket as they enter the warmer air. "No, they'd probably give you hidework or inside duties or such, and you'd still be miserable."
Ilesyn muses, as she pulls off her own jacket, then steps into the warm water, "Miserable? I suppose perhaps I am. No matter. It's all relative." She sinks into the water up to her chin, breathing a sigh of relief.
"Sounds like you are," Daer answers honestly, stripping and joining her. "How's Nallath liking it, though? I have a bet on - mmmm, hot water."
"You have a bet on hot water? Do you lose if it goes cold?" queries Ilesyn, with mirth to her voice. "He-- ah, he's coping. He'd rather be fighting thread, of course, and exploring other places. But I think he accepts me, and my... thing."
Daer stretches out, enjoying the warmth, and relaxes. "I do," he answers, and smirks. "But what I really have the bet on is whether you or Nallath will be bored enough to beg to go to a regular wing first."
Ilesyn lets her eyelids droop, watching the water wavering beneath her lashes. "Nallath has the advantage of forgetting all the boring things we do, day after day," she murmurs. "What's your thought on the outcome, though?"
"Frankly? Well." He slides a glance her way, letting his words settle for a moment. "I think you'll get bored, get into a regular wing, adjust to the challenges within a few months, get bored, and find something else to add on."
Ilesyn's brows raise, though her eyes open only a little. "So, the way you read me is that I constantly need a challenge. I can't cope with being bored." She lets this sit, as if considering it. "Perhaps you're right. And what direction do you prophesise me going in, in a few months time?"
C'daer sinks into the water up to his neck, head back on the ledge. He watches the steam swirl up towards the ceiling. "Dragonhealing. Mindhealing again. I don't know. Whatever strikes your fancy."
Ilesyn mms, thoughtfully. "And what of yourself? You've gotten to this apparent pinacle of your career so young -- what do /you/ intend to do after it wears on you, after it no longer has the same appeal?"
"Will it? I don't know that it will," Daer says, with youth's brazenness. "I'm sure something would come along if I ever did get tired of it. Or I might be happy just back in the wings by -that- point."
"It will," promises Ilesyn. "Everything does. Tired of losing weyrlings, tired of having to deal with teenagers. Perhaps you will be," she adds, "though it'd be a hard enough transition. Going from having all that responsibility, and all that rank, to having-- well, just a lot more free time."
C'daer snorts softly. "Pessimist," he accuses lightly. "Well. I might have more children by then. Finding things to do with my free time hasn't ever been an issue before. What do you do with yours?"
"Realist," corrects Ilesyn. "I've been learning about human nature, and how it works, for more than ten turns now - and not just through normal human experience. Through study." Her eyes lift open again, and she laughs, "Poor Miake. No doubt you have plans for a big family. Me? I work on my mindhealing things, mostly. Or get carried through the weyr by bronzeriders."
"I'd love a big family," Daer answers, "lots of children. I like children. Even after having two." He adds - not completely ignorant - "Although, we'd go insane if there wasn't the nursery to help. I can't imagine being completely responsible for children."
Ilesyn shakes her head, in awe. "I can't understand the attraction. Some say that you can't understand it until you've had that child of yours in your arms, but I... I guess I'm not the motherly type."
C'daer laughs. "It was pretty amazing. Even with Sanriel being completely pissed at me. And he looks like me. It's just pretty awesome, somehow, to know that this came from you." He adds, thoughtfully, "Maybe Nallath will sire a clutch someday. Then you could have that feeling, but from a safe distance."
"Maybe," agrees Ilesyn, wrinkling her nose. "That's as close as I want to get, that's for certain. I have no hesitation in getting rid of any pregnancies on my part." She yawns, then looks repentant. "I ought to be doing /things/," she mutters, pulling herself from the water as if suddenly remembering all of them at once. "I better go."
"Aw. See you later - I have to get going too, but I'm still technically on break," he notes, and sighs. "See you later, Ilesyn. Get bored fast. You look better when you're happy."
Ilesyn flutters her eyelashes, as she wraps herself in a towel, and collects her things. "You noticed! How sweet. My day is complete. See you, Daer."
You amble towards to the cooler climes of the eastern cavern..
Posted by Louise at April 19, 2003 10:39 PM