Riding the Storm Out ::[Shouriko]::

[sai]

Riding the storm out
Waiting for the thaw out
On a full moon night
In a rocky mountain winter.

The rain echoed riotously against the stone outside, sending a shuddering chill down Be'yard's spine. He could hear it clamouring so often, the echoing clap of thunder and the blinding flash of lightning catching his senses and driving his thoughts to cold, biting wind and chill, freezing rain. This was, far and away, his least favourite time of year.

:And also mine,: Adonath agreed with a low rumble. :Try sleeping in it some time.:

Dry humor flicked over Be'yard's face, and he leaned forward onto his elbows, resting on the tabletop with a ponderous expression on his face. Gimna had been ill, though he heard that she was recovering. That was good, and that a second queen had been hatched and successfully impressed was encouraging. This constant war of attrition was taking its toll, both physically and psychologically, and Gimna's illness had only worsened the situation. A successful hatching had been desperately needed.

He'd been in attendance, of course. He was, after all, a bronzerider. It was only right that he do so - his duty and his privilege to support the Weyr at every moment, in fortune and in hardship - but it wasn't times like the hatching that lifted his spirits. Oh, the facts of them certainly did, but as he pressed the warm brim of his cup of klah to his lips and stared out at the sky, darkened by clouds hours earlier than it should have been, he mused to himself that it was this, a hot cup of klah on a quiet, cool evening, that gave him the most cheer. Of course, a bit of pleasant company certainly wouldn't hurt. There had to be a lady around here somewhere who was lonesome...

[shouriko]

With Atizmath finally settled down to his afternoon nap after a rather large lunch, it left F'kir open for the afternoon. Good thing he had been very quick about his morning chores. The extra time he had then he was able to apply to his afternoon chores and with those already half-done it gave him the opportunity to take his time eating a good lunch rather than simply wolfing it down like an animal. Not that it really mattered, he might have impressed bronze, but he had just as much work as anyone else. F'kir was just much better at managing his time than some of his fellow Weyrlings and they usually didn't ask him for help or bothered with him much. If Atizmath's saggy skin was not enough, his rather bland and silent stare kept them from talking to him much.

In the kitchen it was warm, more welcoming than it was outside where a freezing rain pelted down on the Southern Weyr. Winter was indeed upon them all here. F'kir undid the buttons of his shirt cuff and rolled them up as he stood before the food that was ready to be eaten. Systematically he picked up a plate and with a fork and knife in tow he picked his roasted wherry, fried fish, boiled tubers, steamed greens, and two sweetrolls. He ponder a moment and finally decided that it was enough. Since he had missed breakfast, this was a little more than usual for the young Weyrling.

He turned round and scanned the entire area. His pale gray eyes looked over those who were already assembled. To one side there was a collection of people happily talking about something that excited them all. F'kir sighed and decided against that area for certain. He had enough noise in the barracks. On the otherside were a few stragglers content to remain where they were. He'd go that way and at random selected the nearest table that already had a pitcher of water and glasses ready for those who were in need of them.

Pouring himself a glass he saw a rider on the opposite end of the table, same side.

[sai]

The sound of a plate touching down on the table caught Be'yard's attention, and he turned, tilting his head curiously toward the source of the sound. Company, was it? It was, indeed, though admittedly of a rather more masculine cast than he'd been hoping.

He cast a quick, appraising eye over the boy, considering. There was something familiar about him, though he couldn't place him. Young - barely into his teens, by the look of him - and not particularly remarkable in any way that Be'yard, at least, recognized, however, he couldn't fathom where he would know the boy from.

:Yet mine is the bad memory?: Adonath demanded dryly. :You forget your fellows. What would Vandyith think if she knew you forgot her children so quickly?:

It took everything Be'yard had not to roll his eyes, but the reminder was useful. Of course, that he hadn't dropped a name meant that Adonath didn't really remember that well, either, though he had always had a keen eye for hatchings, if only, Be'yard expected, to impress the queen by remembering all of her children for far too long. Be'yard suspected he was checking on them to keep himself reminded. Vandyith's children, hrm? That meant the boy had probably impressed at the last hatching, which would explain why his face was familiar but Be'yard couldn't place him. The clutch before that, he recognized as riders immediately, even if he didn't know them all by name. Which, of course, he didn't.

Well, there was no point in being asocial, now, was there? Rising, cup in hand, he walked over to the other end of the table and sat himself down beside the boy. "Good afternoon, son," he offered by way of greeting. "I didn't make the feast to say it, but congratulations on your Impression. I'm Be'yard, of Adonath. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Are you getting by alright?"

[shouriko]

Oh dear, he had been sighted. F'kir didn't mind meeting new people, it was just that he wasn't very good at it. If he didn't offend people by saying little, he often would offend him by the little that the actually said. He was to the point, matter-of-fact, and no fluff-about-it in his words and to put it plainly, pointed out the obvious many times, granted not everyone notices the obvious. So though he was tentative about meeting the older rider, a rider he was meant to be and by his knots as bronzerider as well. He could learn a thing or two then if the man was the talkative type and him the listener.

"Hello." F'kir said politely.

He remembered his manners as he began to ate. Today he was particularly ravenous. It was almost as if he had learned this new appetite from Atizmath and Ahiru. Luckily when he ate, he didn't fall asleep like the two of them did. He was smarter and knew better than to gorge himself merely because he missed a meal. F'kir's gray eyes scanned over the man, a rider for several turns, probably had dealt with some battles and come out better than most had.

"F'kir of bronze Atizmath." He said simply, his young voice quiet because it was still a might bit high due to his young age. He was sure to hit puberty soon, but it just seemed to be taking forever and a day to get there. "Fairly well, though the group does not function as a unit."

And there was no better way to put it. Crescentia always got insulted far too quickly and was quick to return a comment. If she was put off, she was sarcastic and rude, and if she felt like it, she resorted to physical violence as if her words were not enough. Knowing that she was one of those few select women made him worry about consistency in leadership. Then there was A'mry who was also sardonic and seemed to care very little about what his actions entailed. He simply went about doing what he absolutely needed to and left the rest to drop off. His care for his dragon was minimal and he was clearly content to work on his own. There were others, like B'ral, who was clearly out for the win and nothing else. D'von was not so bad, he tried to keep the peace, but sometimes he only made matters worse by opening his mouth. Would they ever learn to work together? He doubted it.

[sai]

Be'yard pondered the situation. He rarely had much to do with the Weyrling groups, as much due to his own contentment with their Weyrlingmaster as with anything else, so he couldn't say much on them, but he did recall his own Weyrlinghood. "I'm pretty sure that happens most times. Your dragons are all siblings, after all, and I don't know if you have any, but I never did get on well with most of my siblings, when we were young. I don't seem to recall Adonath getting on well with his, either. As for the riders, well... part of the Weyrlingmaster's job is teaching you to work together, but he can't do it alone. If he's getting after the troublemakers, there may not be much else he can do unless you lot all help him by getting after them, too." That made sense, didn't it? It seemed to, to him.

"And that about dispenses the last of my good advice for one day. I don't know if it helped any, but I suppose it can't hurt. Bronze, huh?" Be'yard didn't even seem to notice his own abrupt change of topic, as if it were as natural as the traveling of the sun. To him, it very much was. After all, he'd dispensed his advice, and the subject itself was clearly unpleasant for the lad. He'd never met a Weyrling yet who didn't like to talk about his own dragon, though. "Which one was yours, then?"

As he recalled, there had been three in this last clutch, a fine turnout indeed, but beyond the numbers, he really could recall very little. For a moment, he considered asking Adonath, but he could feel the dragon dozing off, already, and besides, his memory was even worse than Be'yard's. Better to let the boy do the talking and find out that way.

[shouriko]

"Eight, sir." F'kir half-sighed as he owned up to the amount of siblings that he had.

He was the second youngest, that meant the majority were already married with children or had nice sensible trades. They all had things pretty together compared to him. They fought and quarreled at times, but he was hardly ever involved. He just sat there staring at them shouting and punching and pulling hair until he pointed something out and then they'd all laugh over it. The fights ended as quickly as they had begun. The quarrels in the group were different, almost personal vendettas. F;kir simply could not explain, but he did indeed understand what Be'yard said.

And he did try to help, he kept Crescentia from getting in too deep during the one lesson by telling her to ignore them. That time his advice was heard and followed. Whether or not anything else he said would be heard or followed was another question entirely.

"Atizmath, sir." F'kir repeated the name, but could tell by now that the older man would not recognize the name a second time if he did not recall it the first. "He has a gray sheen and is tall, sure-footed..." He glanced at Be'yard and finished, "was called ugly."

Sure, maybe he wasn't a looker by a long shot, but he was amazingly intelligent. He didn't make a lot of sense the first time around because he talked in riddles. An interesting quirk really, but F'kir was pretty smart himself and had caught on quickly about it. If his own hide color was not something to have as a source of pride, his mind-voice was. Of course no one else really heard it except for him and the other dragons. He continued to eat, occasionally looking up at the bronzerider and his smile.

[sai]

"Eight? Fancy that. I've the same. Point of fact, I think my littlest sister must be around your age. Bit more like having an army than a family, isn't it?" He flashed the boy a smile, then, of familiarity. A family that large was a special sort of suffering that only a fellow with a family of a kind could truly appreciate. Of course, Be'yard was the oldest, and though he didn't know where F'kir fell in the line, anything but oldest was going to be a rather different experience, but all the same, that feeling of being slightly overwhelmed by your own kin was a distinctive sort of feeling.

When the boy described his dragon, Be'yard pondered for a moment, trying to recall the hatchlings. That was a rather distinctive description, fortunately, and it wasn't that hard to place, once he had it. "Ah, yes, I think I do recall, now you mention it." Settling forward, he eyed the boy ponderously at the last few words, then said somberly, "Now, it might just be me, and I'm certainly not of enough account for it to make any real mind of the matter, but as I see it, it doesn't much matter how pretty you or I think he is. It matters a whole much more what that dragon flying things. Besides, being pretty has never won any dragon anything of real value. It's what's up here-" - and he paused to rap two knuckles lightly against his own temple - "-that makes a Weyrleader glad to have a dragon in his Weyr, and what's in here." Tapping his chest lightly, right over his heart, he dropped his arm back to his side once more, looking somber and contemplative. "But then, I suppose if anyone else is going to understand that, it's probably going to be you, eh? You didn't impress a bronze for nothing, and, with a few exceptions, most bronzes are sensible enough to understand that."

Not, of course, to name any names...

[shouriko]

Truly? Then perhaps it was not so hard for either of them to understand then the meaning of being able to properly work together in a unit. That was some comfort. Though their experiences were likely quite different. It didn't matter if it was all full-blooded brothers and sisters, they were siblings none the less and were expected in some degree to act like it. In his father's house, it was working together to get chores and work done. He wished such mentality could be afforded in his Weyrling group.

"Second youngest, sir. Fourteen turns." F'kir indulged him. It was not much that he was saying, but it was enough. Sure, there was more he could say, however he had never been the talkative one.

F'kir smiled then as he forked some tubers up for consumption. He agreed very much with the bronzerider's words. Atizmath could easily outgrow this stage in his life and look very different. Even he hadn't known what would happen when he stood there on the sands. Yet he had a confidence few of the other young dragon's had and he was smart, patient, and just like him, observant. He was a perfect compliment.

"Atizmath is very smart, sir." F'kir said, his gray eyes softening as he thought so aloud. "I am very thankful for him."

[sai]

"Second youngest? I'm eldest, though I suppose that must be obvious, eh? Well, that you know you're lucky proves you wiser than several men I could name twice your age," Be'yard observed with a small smile.

:Men like you, perhaps?: suggested a familiar rumble in the back of Be'yard's mind.

'Shut up, you overgrown wherry. I thought you were sleeping,' the rider fired back affectionately.

:Who can sleep with you thinking so loud?: the dragon griped lazily.

'I'll try to be quieter with my musings in the future.'

:Good,: Adonath jibed. See that you do.:

The exchange brought a tiny smile to the corner of Be'yard's mouth as he continued. "A smart dragon is an amazing asset to any Weyr. I'll have to be keeping an eye on you two, just to see how much trouble you two manage to stir up - and to settle down. Should be fascinating to watch. You growing, son?" he added, noting how swiftly the food was disappearing from the young man's plate. It had been turns since Be'yard had eaten like that, though he still saw his brother do the same whenever he returned home for any gatherings. It was awe-inspiring to witness, and baffling to think that he, himself, had eaten that way, once.

[shouriko]

F'kir had no response for what Be'yard said. He just lowered his gaze to his plate and continued to shovel food into his mouth. It felt so good to have a stomach full of warm food. It almost made him think of home.

Home.

He hadn't thought of it in such a long time. He thought of his troublesome siblings and the strong voice of his father at times, but the house itself? It seemed so far away both in location and memory. F'kir paused then and looked back at Be'yard. He was starting to recognize that sort of far-away thoughtful look dragonriders bore when speaking with their dragons. He had that look now.

"Atizmath talks in riddles." F'kir said, trying to explain his reasoning for why he thought his little bronze was so smart.

Then he blinked back at the man. Growing? Was he? Could the man see it? "Am I, sir?" F'kir asked. He stopped eating and looked at himself a moment, slightly bewildered. "I'd like to be taller, I'm still the smallest in the group. It's hard to do some chores on my own." It came almost out of nowhere. The surprise brought out words that he usually kept to himself, or as of more recently, with Atizmath. "Can you tell?"

[sai]

The boy's sudden outburst, after such quiet, brought an amused smile to Be'yard's face, but he quickly banished it, pondering the boy somberly for a moment and trying to recall his own time at ... what had he said? Fourteen? It seemed so long ago. Ah, but he remembered seeing his brothers at that age, and if he counted right, that should be about the time they started popping up like weeds. "Well, son," he mused aloud after a moment, "it's hard to tell just by looking at you, but judging by the way you're eating? I wouldn't doubt it. Let me see your hands." He held up his own, palms out, to demonstrate what he meant.

It may not be a perfect measurement system, but his own mother had always said that a boy's hands and feet grew first, and then the rest of him played catch-up. Be'yard wasn't sure if it was true or not, but his mother always seemed to know silly homey things like that. It was just one of those mother-mysteries. They always seemed to know things like that, probably passed down from their own mothers. He'd learned to trust it long ago.

There was something about this lad. He couldn't quite place just what, but while it hadn't proven the afternoon interlude he'd been hoping for, he found himself oddly pleased by it. The boy seemed ... if not bright, at least observant, and observant people had potential. He was going places. Be'yard was sure of it.

Of course, it could just be the Impression making him think so, but he doubted that.

[shouriko]

F'kir was leaning forward, gripping his fork, but once Be'yard started speaking again he realized that he had been uncharacteristically open. He sat back and relaxed once more. He bit the inside of his cheek and poked what was left on his plate sheepishly.

He looked at his hands, the one on the edge of the table and the other holding the fork. F'kir's gray eyes glanced up at Be'yard and his example. If his eating habits, which he accounted to missing breakfast, was not sign enough, were his hands really? Well, it wouldn't hurt to see what he meant. The fork hit the plate with a thud clink and he rose his hands up and held them out. His fingers were spread a bit and he looked past them and directly at Be'yard with expectancy.

"Sir?" F'kir asked, waiting for his assessment.

What was it about hands? He didn't think his hands were any different. Though maybe it was more of an adult thing. If it were so then clearly he would not understand it yet. Or if it were a dragonrider thing, then he had yet to learn of it. F'kir had to learn what he could, then maybe he could truly be a good dragonrider.

[sai]

"Before I came to the Weyr," Be'yard explained, eyeing the boy's hand and comparing it to his own speculatively, "my mother used to say that you could tell a boy was about to shoot up because his hands and feet would grow first, and since she always seemed to know when we were going to need new clothes, I figure she must know what she's talking about." Pausing, he pursed his lips, then raised a brow at F'kir. "What do you think, son? Look like your hand's catching up to mine? Looks like it might be, to me. Between that and the way that food's disappearing off your plate, I figure that, yes, you're probably just about due to be looking into a new set of clothing."

:Humans grow funny. Is that true?:

'So my mother said,' Be'yard replied with a tone of dry amusement. All the big bronze offered back was a mental snort of derision and humor. The dragon always got that way over human matters, though. Be'yard could hardly blame him. It was probably true. Humans did grow rather 'funny'. Then again, so did dragons, but there was no point in telling Adonath that.

[shouriko]

Ah! He was right!

F'kir's dark brows rose high over his pale gray eyes. They were nearly lost in the lower hanging hairs that comprised his bangs. Slowly but surely and most uncontrollably a smile grew on his face. It spread out wider and wider until he could hardly contain it much more. F'kir's true smile of sheer happiness emerged in a wide grin and squeezed eyes, hands clenching into fists.

"Yes!" F'kir nearly leapt from him seat as he punched the air triumphantly. It was such wondrously good news that he simply could not help himself. "Thank you, sir."

When he had calmed down enough to sit back down and finish eating, there was still some semblance of a smile on his face. It was smaller, more harnessed than the other, but it was still there. F'kir had shared some of his little world with the bronzerider and he had hardly noticed in doing so, but back in the barracks a young mind stirred and there was contentment there. Atizmath could feel it even though he was still sleeping and was very happy and such shared happiness was what kept F'kir's smile there.

"Oh!'" His outburst was quiet this time as he again realized what growing meant and Be'yard's words. "New clothes..."

Perhaps he should send Ahiru home with a message. He knew mother kept all of the clothes outgrown by his brothers and would likely send some to him if he told her the good news. She'd be happy, too, wouldn't she? They might not come for some time, but it'd be better than having clothes too small for him, even if they were worn out and discolored.

[sai]

The boy's patent joy and obvious excitement brought an amused, content smile to Be'yard's face. He really was enjoying himself, and as the boy went back to his plate with a smile still spread over his lips, Be'yard pondered for a moment what he could recall about the current batch of Weyrlings. It didn't take long for him to realize the answer, however: not much. He'd been painfully out of touch, lately, and it was beginning to show. An amazing clutch, with a gold and three bronzes, and he could identify all of two Weyrlings on sight. It was a bit depressing, considering how observant he usually was. What was getting into him?

:You have been busy,: Adonath pointed out gently.

It was true, too, now he thought about it. The birth of Toyara's youngest, the announcement of Reyara's first pregancy and Araen's engagement, and that was just with his family, to say nothing of what had been going on in the Weyr. Perhaps it wasn't that out of sorts for him to be missing things. Still, he didn't like it.

"Oh! New clothes..."

The words cut through Be'yard's pensive reverie, and he glanced over at the boy, a smile spreading once more over his features. "That, of course, would be the down side to growing," he observed with mild amusement.

[shouriko]

"Ma should have some at home, sir. I'm sure she would send them if I need them." F'kir said, his plate now clear. He had only his sweetrolls left and he took the first one in hand and ripped it in half.

He looked back at Be'yard considering the man. He was a different kind of bronzerider than T'ran. He lacked the scars of battle so very obviously present in the Weyrleader. Yet Be'yard was surprisingly easy to speak with. He was more approachable, his words different, and the way he held himself was not with so strict a stature. It seemed that there were as many different kinds of riders as there were people. They could not be given a classification. And if they could, he didn't know which to aspire to.

His first roll gone, he progressed to the second and asked, "Sir, why did you talk to me?" F'kir was a little curious about that, but it didn't matter much. He had learned quite a bit already and was glad of it.

[sai]

The question startled Be'yard, and he paused, blinking pensively at the boy. Now that was an interesting question! Why did he talk to the boy? More importantly, why was the lad worrying over such a thing? Then again, he was a bronzerider, if a very young one. No doubt he had already been inducted to the inglorious halls of manipulation, scheming, and backstabbing that seemed to come with the territory. Perhaps he expected the same of Be'yard. The rider couldn't blame him, really, though, being honest, it did depress him a bit.

"That's an unusual question," Be'yard mused aloud, considering. "I'm not sure I have an answer for you. Partially because I'm a social creature by nature and desired company. Partially because I've been too preoccupied lately to pay our newest batch of Weyrlings proper mind. Partially because I was bored. Partially, I suppose, because I'm a bronzerider, at heart, and that means that it's important to have connections in all places, not just the obvious ones. I don't suppose there is just one reason."

It was probably the most thought out answer Be'yard had ever given for that sort of question, and on some level, he was extraordinarily proud of it. On another, it depressed him just a little bit. It was a sobering thing, to think his motivations for what should have been a simple act of kindness and idle indulgence were so many-layered, these days. There was a time when that wouldn't have been true, but it became harder and harder to remember with each passing turn.

[shouriko]

Wierd. F'kir hadn't expected such a bewildered reaction to his question. Maybe it was because it was so very straightforward. He tended to say things in such a way, though not everything caught others by surprise. In all honesty, he was just curious why he decided to slide over and ask about him. Most people just looked past him and hardly took notice of him because he was so very quiet much of the time. It was different this time to have someone to interact with.

Ah, so there was no reason in particular. Curious. F'kir seemed to draw attention from people who had no reason at all, just that he was there and that one time they decided to talk to him. It was almost the same with how he was searched. There was no reason in particular, just that the dragon saw something in him he liked. Had he not been asked to bring the buckles out, he'd still be back Home. Strange how things just happen like that.

"I see, sir." F'kir said with hardly an expression, though he was satisfied enough with the answer. He looked at his empty plate for a moment and then back at Be'yard with placid gray eyes. "Sorry, sir, but I am done and there are chores that are not."

He stood up and with his plates and cup in hand gave his head a bow to Be'yard. F'kir looked around the room and started off. Atizmath would still sleep for another candlemark or two he was sure, but Ahiru wouldn't. He'd need to snag her on his way back to doing the laundry.

"Goodbye, sir." F'kir said.