Clutch 17's Weyrlings Graduate

Logfile from Hannah.
June 23, 2003

Living Cavern (#4190)
The smooth, rounded walls cavern sweep upward from an oval base, two dragonlengths long and one wide, large enough to seat every member of the Weyr at mealtimes. The soft blackness of the lava which forms these caverns swallows glowlight, so shelves for glowbaskets abound, dotting the walls every three or four paces and casting gentle greenish light toward the sparkles of gold volcanic glass embedded in the ceiling. Ancient, lustrous tables run along the axis of the cavern, and at the far end rests the raised dais and high table, where Weyrleaders and honored guests eat during formal occasions. Behind the high table, the Weyr's symbol is embedded into stone: a smoking mountain in black on an orange shield, trimmed in gold.
Perched near the food are thirty-three firelizards.
You see Basket of Tubers, Seven-Layer Tiered Cake, Decorations, A tray of hors'd'ouevres, and Basket of Flowers here.
K'av, P'renn, and Trik are here.
Obvious exits:
Northeast Caverns Kitchens Bowl Southern Caverns

K'av is oddly calm in the face of P'renn's analysis of him, taking one step back and unclenching his fists to cross his arms again, weight resting on his right leg. His expression is frosty, and voice dry and hostile as he rolls his eyes at P'renn. "I think /you/ need to get shardin' laid, wingleader." Whoa. "And when you learn to not jump to conclusions about people, /then/ I'll have more respect for you as a person, and not just a rider." Longest speech ever made by K'av in public? Perhaps, and that warrants the breath he takes before cutting his eyes at Trik. "Nothing that concerns you," he replies icily, scowling at the bluerider.

P'renn smiles belatedly at Trik, looking properly relieved that his ol' friend is standing up for him, at least in some reguards. "Laid? /I/ need to get laid?!" He'll just let that sink in a bit while ol' frosty gets titchy. "I'm not jumping to conclusions, you as good as said what I just repeated that night in the Mug." Exasperation thins P'renn's voice as he turns his eyes to the floor, attempting to detatch himself from the situation. "K'av, I don't particularily like you, but I don't particularily hate you either. Truth be told, I don't really give a damn either way. I just need you to not attack every weyrling you see, huh? S'bad enough the stress we have to deal with without walking on eggshells when we're around you."

Trik coughs over a few bemused chuckles from the argument going on, uplifting an arm to muffle her mouth, "See? He dun' hate you. You jus' need to chill out, K'av. Thas' all.." In the meantime, the bluerider excuses herself to grab a quick cup of klah.

Hannah slips into the living caverns, not expecting to hear snippets of hostile conversation. Eyes widen a bit, and there's a brief moment of hesitation before she fully enters the caverns. "Good Evening," is offered quietly.

K'av has to snort at that, and does, rolling his eyes delibrately at P'renn at the same time. "I didn't say anything of that shardin' sort at the Mug," he replies, still in the same cold manner, "and I do not shardin' attack every shardin' weyrling. Faranth, P'renn, I don't even want y'all touching me." He's so coolly logical at such odd times, never mind that that last sentence was uttered from between clenched jaws. "And I sure don't need all the shardin' attention I'm getting from half the bloody wing!" There goes the calm, at least for the moment, as K'av's eyes seem to blaze in his own frustration.
K'av has connected.

P'renn is about to reply with something suitably nasty to K'av when Hannah appears and the diminuitive weyrwoman promptly causes P'renn to remember that he had something to attend to in the kitchens. "Evening Ma'am," is offered quietly with a salute before the brownrider, throwing an extremely nasty look at K'av, stands and bustles towards the kitchens.

P'renn shakes his little boo-tay to the Kitchens.

Pleiades slips into sight with a stretch of star-peppered sails and flick of a golden tail from the nothing of ::between::

Trik roves with uncouth grace to the Bowl.
Hannah looks from P'renn to K'av, eyebrows raised. "Something wrong?" Taking a seat near where the conflict seems to linger, she sets the hides down that she was carrying. "Evening.." Greeting trails off with P'renn's escape into the kitchens.

K'av's glower follows P'renn's back as the wingleader beats a temporary retreat, or so it seems, before turning on Hannah in the form of a tamer narrowed-eye stare. Hey, it's tame by K'av-standards. "Nothing," he states flatly, turning on a heel to return to his long-abandoned seat, empty mug by the legs and all. K'av plops himself down in a position similar to the one P'renn first found him in, leaning wearily against the back of the chair, eyes half-shut, and both hands now hanging off the armrests.

Hannah's own eyes narrow at K'av's abrupt response. "Something is clearly wrong." A glance back toward P'renn's abandoned path, she turns attention back to K'av. "And it seems to be of a nature that interferes with your weyrling duties. Is there an explanation?" Question is asked in a soft voice, but doesn't lack firmness.

Brodi has left.

"No, ma'am," is K'av's prompt response in a bland tone, the brownrider lifting his head off the back of the seat to incline it slightly in the weyrwoman's direction. So K'av does have /some/ manners after all. Hands twitch slightly before the young man brings them together in his lap, each resting atop a thigh, and K'av drops his chin to stare blankly at his own limbs.

Hannah is a bit mollified at K'av's small token to mannerisms. "If it turns out to be something that is not a personal conflict, but involves your duties as a weyrling, it would be better to offer an explanation now." Unfolding the hides in front of her, she turns her attention to the information contained in them.

K'av nods shortly, mumbling a "Yes, ma'am" before subsiding into morose silence. The brownrider appears to be at a slight loss as to a method of self-entertainment, and ends up glaring at his hands as he flips them over and over again on his thighs. A brief pause for one to shove at K'av's black hair, and it's back to being eyed again.

Hannah purses her lips at his response, "Weyrling, are these the kind of manners Dea is teaching? Curt replies and short mumbles? I realize that your training is nearly done, but how can we graduate weyrlings that seem to have no manners?" Speech is short lived while notes are made in the columns of her hides. "I think I will need to speak with N'ano and Dea," comes a soft mumble.

K'av looks up sharply over at Hannah, and tries the nod again. "I apologise, Weyrwoman," he begins stiffly, clasping his hands lightly together so they won't do any strange things without him watching. Ahem. "I assure you that this will not interfere with our duties as weyrlings." K'av shifts uncomfortably in his seat as he speaks, clearly unused to having to explain himself to the senior weyrwoman, no less. Poor K'avvie.

Hannah isn't comforted by his new-found sense of decorum. "If I even think this is something that could potentially harm you, your wingleader, or your fellow weyrlings, I will not hesitate to bring you to task." She pauses, tilting her head thoughtfully, "Nor should you refuse explanation of any of your leaders, whether it be me, Yulianna, Dea or N'ano. Remember, you tread a fine line, weyrling." At that, she makes another quick notation on one of her hides, before adding innoculously, "Weyrlinghood a second time would not be advisable. But since it seems to be a personal problem…" Voice trails off, leaving no room for doubts as to her opinion of this "personal" matter.

"I understand, ma'am." K'av's voice is appropriately muted and calm, though the tightening of his hands around each other suggest slight alarm at the goldrider's pronouncements. Dipping his chin slightly causes part of K'av's fringe to fall across his face, inadvertently half-hiding his eyes from Hannah as the weyrling continues, "No harm, weyrwoman. I will resolve the personal issue with P'renn…" And now K'av evidently has nothing more to say.

"See that you do." Hannah, herself, has said all she needs to say on the subject.

[End of log]

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