Bad Move

Xanadu Weyr - Weyrling Barracks

A long and roughly oblong cavern, about a third of the space is open, used for classes or chores as required. The rest of the space is filled with couches of varying sizes, all with plenty of space between them. Some couches are obviously intended for the very young weyrlings while the largest ones at the back are for the older weyrlings.

Galaxy wing has had a go-for the last couple days, the weyrling brown who was punished and told to go spend time with the wingleader or wingsecond has actually spent longer than necessary with them. They have even requested that he be 'released' from being 'grounded' while with them for the sake of being useful and learning the risks of the job. Likely with V'dim or one of the other weyrlingmasters signing off on it, Ers'lan has participated in drills and sweeps (which didn't require *betweening*). The fact of the matter was, after the incident of his manned flight, he's been able to cope better with flying (not spilling his guts everytime). A nice thing similar to gravol was mixed for him by one of the search and rescue riders, which has consequently resulted in him being able to stay aloft for longer durations without stomach issues. While there has been considerable weyrling training and chores kept up with, he's spent every other possible waking hour with galaxy. Waking is the key. He's dozed off in his cot in the barracks at this point, with a paper of his 'attempted' report to give Keziah half mashed underneath his head, considering he's on his stomach and his head is at the foot of the bed. Zhaoth isn't currently in the barracks, but instead outside on the beach and sunbathing.

Galaxy is the best, and is a wing that Keziah really does miss. Very much so. Course, not that she could do much anyways, what with her arm and all still healing and in it's sling.. She walks through the grounds and tracks mud in through the barracks. If she's nice, maybe she won't but mud up on the cot. She leans down a little and at first just whispers "Rise and shine." One would hope a sailor is quick to wake to a summons, even a whispered one. Course Kezi could resort to other means as well if need be.

Ers'lan doesn't wake entirely, no, he shifts his face more into the paper at the whisper, crinkling it underneath an arm that pillows his face. There might be even a little lip smacking involved and a deeper inhale, as if stirring and rousing from whatever momentary sleep he had found.

Keziah shakes her head a little and then stands back up. "Wake up! Weyrling!" she belts out. Okay, so maybe she's not forgiven him yet for the scare. She eyes him and the paper which is likely getting drooled on or something.

This. This is what Lan was used to. The man jolts awake (she better not be too close) with arms and limbs flailing, leaping out of his cot with a phenomenal dexterity that puts him on his feet in seconds. The piece of paper, yeah, it had drool on it. He had to actually swipe it away from his face, hand thrashing at it to get it to drift down to his cot instead of on the floor. Blinking hard, with shoulders heaving, he regards Keziah with wide eyes. There is something different about him and quite visible. A snaking burn leaves a chunk of his beard missing, crawls down his neck, over one shoulder and down his arm (most of which is covered by his shirt but it is still visible on the parts not covered). The burn is an electrical one and the serious parts are bandaged up, just underneath the shirt. The mild parts leave skin multi-colored and angry red. "Ma'am…" he says in a choked voice, saluting all the same.

Keziah watches Ers'lan and then her eyes narrow as she looks over the burn mark and then looks back up at Ers'lans eyes. "What about Zhaoth?" she asks "How bad is he burned?" Her voice is really low right now, and a little deep and her eyes go even colder if possible. "Well, lets have the report." She eyes the crumpled wet mess. "If there is anything left of it." she adds with a bit of a sneer. Yes, Keziah is not a happy camper. Not in the least little bit.

Ers'lan dejectedly turns his eyes down the instant he realizes she's looking at the burn mark that will forever remind the man of his reckless decision. The question of Zhaoth has him shaking his head, his voice a low sullen tone, shame edging each word: "He be havin a mark on him. From the crest of his shoulder to the swell of his chest." He doesn't even move when she asks for the report, shaking his head, "Nay. Ya said I could do it verbally… tis jus some notes on thar, that I be minglin together. Me writin still ain't so good." He doesn't even look her in the eye, he keeps his eyes downcast, knowing very well that if she went crazy and hit him, he'd deserve every bit of it.

Keziah is silent as she eyes him. She purses her lips and then starts to cross her arms and then winces and then drops the good arm down to her side. "I'm waiting. Spit it out weyrling." she orders. Her voice not warming any. If anything there's disdain in her voice now. "That is, if you managed to get anything into that thick skull of yours. Faranth knows, you don't listen to any of us. It's kind of embarrasing to have such a pair in the Weyr. Someone who can have such disregard for his dragon. Someone who has such disrespect for figures of authority. Someone who has become a disgrace." Oh yeah. She's pissed.

Ers'lan spends a moment flapping his gums, literally trying to get in a word to defend himself and then not being able to fathom any sort of excuse to make her words untrue. His gaze continues to look at the floor board underneath his feet, lips licked over with a tongue as he side glances toward the crumpled paper under the ire of the woman. "Yah be right… I be a right dishonor ta the Weyr, ta the trainin ya have been givin, ta my lifemate… I be wantin ta prove somethin ta myself this whole time, tha I must be something more, that thar be some greater purpose fer me. When I be narh able ta stomach flyin, it hit me I be nothin but the worst of riders… I did narh even like the thought of flyin, still do narh. Be it stung that fact, n' I be wantin ta show that I could be doin it. Tis…. I guess… the feelin that I be narh capable of bein skillful as a dragonrider… narh as capable as I war being a sailor…" He frowns as he shrugs his shoulders, as if knowing that wasn't an excuse either. "I reckon I be learnin a fair bit from them boys in the galaxy wing. They be showin me records of them who be dyin an early death due ta bein stupid and reckless. I be fairly certain me name would have been in thar iffin it weren't fer Zhaoth's quick wit." He slides his hands in his pockets, frowning, "One be able ta fly in the storms, reckon sometimes they must. I learn thar be special straps made fer this, so thar be no metal…tis most expensive these straps and takes a bit of time ta figure out the right fit. Harder fer the dragons ta get inta too… but the riders be saying they mostly wait until the lightnin stops. But they fly in bad weather…iffin a life depends on it."

Keziah listens quietly and then nods "Sometimes we do fly in storms." she murmurs "But not the untrained. It takes a lot of trainin', it's not an undertakin' to be takin' lightly. And even so. The first rule that you learn is that you /cannot/ help anyone if you become a victim yourself." She goes silent a moment and then continues "You should never take unreasonable chances to your life to save another. There is the potential to lose not just them, but you as well. And even so, when your wingleader, second or anyone that they appoint in command says the wing is grounded. It's grounded. You don't argue. You don't disobey. You keep your butt and your dragon on the ground so that you don't get shardin' blasted!" that last bit rises in crescendo until she's near shouting. And then she's quiet again. "As for being incabable. WHat you're incabable of doing is listening. Not everyone flies at the same time. That's why we take you all in little groups. If yer not ready, yer not ready. Lying and all doesn't make things better. You wanna hop for a bit. Then hop. Finally up to gliding? Fine. But this isn't some game that you have to prove you're bigger, badder and better than someone else. This is life. I don't care about your damn pride. I do care about your life. ANd your dragons. Which is more than I can say for you."

He's smart enough to hold his tongue while a superior berates him, one thing he's learnt real well. He closes his eyes half way through, his hands sliding out of their pockets as he stands stock still, earning the tongue lashing as much as any corporal punishment that could be given. "Yes ma'am…" is the only thing that he murmurs, repeating it when she pauses it or sometimes just under his breath but his lips move to speak it. As the yelling wanes some, he squints his eyes up toward her, dawn blue eyes finally able to own up to the woman, "I reckon I do be sorry. More than me words know. Ta ya, ta the class, ta Zhaoth… ta the Weyr." Subsequently, eyes drop once finished with his apology, not moving as if expecting more.

Silence meets his words as Keziah continues to regard him. "I should hope you are sorry to Zhaoth." A pause "Have you ever seen someone turned to a crispy because of lightning? Have you ever seen a ball of lightning burn up a child? Have you seen a dragons wings turn to shreds because of a downdraft from a storm? Or even a tree ripped out of the ground and smashed into someone?" she sighs a little and then turns away "Storms aren't something to play around with. I don't know how they might be deep out at sea. But in land and near land, they can be quite savage. All the debris can make things really dangerous." She then turns back and jams the finger of her good arm at Ers'lan as she stalks up to him "And so help me. If you ever pull such a shardin stupid stunt again, so help me. I will skin the hide right of you and use it for the skin on a target. This is your chance to straighten up and fly right. I expect more from you. You want to know what your greater purpose is? It's to be a mate to Zhaoth and not get your bloody selves killed by doing something stupid! Use those brains I know you have somewhere in there."

"I be seein me … mates murdered… see others fallin off and swallowed by the sea, I be seein me whole crew sucked down ta the bottom of the Azov…" he replies with a cold ring in his own tone, "I be seein enough death ta wonder why I ain't dead…" he shakes his head a little. There's a moment where he rubs his hand through his hair, spiking up the tips and ruffling up the curly q's. With a heavy and hoarse sea-farring tone, he answers, "Storms be a man's enemy. Be a challenge ta survive. A sailor be excited ta beat a storm. Tis work aye, but a trained man can be holdin his own in a storm. Tis dangerous, aye, but so be many things, and fer us, it be a test of who we be ta ride a storm…" A beat, "I … I reckon I … recalled that when the storm blew in, whar able ta get me courage up and try flyin." He flinches with a visible snarl of his lips at the pointed finger, looking down the line of her arm toward her face with a narrowing of gaze. His hand snaps up to grapple her arm (the good one, with finger pointed), drawing her abruptly close with his seething blue gaze leeching into her own eyes, resting on her face for a split second before his words hiss out in a whipser, "I know why ya so mad…" he doesn't give her an moment more to fight him, using his leverage to place a kiss on her lips. Yeah, that's right, a kiss. Hot for teacher?

Keziah just listens and then she nods a little "Yes, a /trained/ man. Ya ain't trained fer flyin' a dragon in a storm. Shards, yer barely trained for flyin yer dragon on a sunny day." She starts as her arm his grabbed and then's pulled close. Her nostrils flare and her eyes narrow. As she gets ready to yell at him there's a kiss planted. She goes still, for the briefest of moments there's a hesitation and then her knee comes up right in the groan and then her boot comes down on the instep and then a kick to the shin as she yanks herself back with a wince. "Be thankful I didn't bite as well." she near growls. "Don't you ever do that again. I don't care if sex and it's ilk have become unrestricted. I am still one of your weyrlingmasters and you are still a weyrling. No fraternization. Do you have that clear? And if you think yer gonna worm yer way out of this mess you placed yourself in by trying to seduce me, you have another thing coming. Consider yerself on rations until further notice, and you are to report to the kitchens each morning after excercise." Oh yeah, she's in a temper now. Her nostrils continue to flare as she breaths quickly. Her fist is clinched and there's a low rumble from out in the grounds and a shifting and then Alosynth is slipping her way into the barracks. "You are also restricted to the Weyr until further notice. I suggest you figure things out, before someone gets hurt." A beat. "Or killed." And with that said she turns and stalks away towards Alo and the entrance.

Signals must have been crossed somewhere. Whether because of a green that Zhaoth is suddenly interested in or because of previous interactions with Keziah, something misfired. Due to it, he's left breathless as he falls hard like a stone to the floor boards on his knees, too in shock and in pain to really do much more than curl into a 'holy fuck my balls' position, hands cupping. Something of a high pitched 'aye' comes out of him and that's the only thing besides the sounds of wheezing. Tears /are/ streaming down his face, cause she nailed him good.

Keziah stops near Alosynth, her hand reaching out to touch the greens hide. She turns to look at Ers'lan. Something flickers and then is gone as her face shutters quickly. She gives a nod. Course, he might not even notice that and then turns to walk away. "Alo me dear. Lets go kill something." and with that she leaves.

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