Real Classy, Kid

Writers: Chelle, Leigh M-F.
Date Posted: 19th March 2013

Characters: P'nal, A'kua
Description: A lecture in class becomes a momentary exchange of snark.
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 12, day 18 of Turn 6
Notes: Mentioned: G'nir

This particular topic was actually interesting. The dragonrider who had taken time out of his busy schedule to speak to the Candidates was going over how to compensate flight for high winds and other bad weather.

Aluka was paying attention. He was; the topic was good stuff. But lunch was right around the corner, his stomach was griping, he could use another mug of klah, and he could feel a yawn coming. He ducked his head slightly and lifted his left hand to his mouth, like he was staring thoughtfully at his notes, and wrote a little more as he yawned, not quite as quietly as he'd hoped.

P'nal was watching the group and it wasn't hard to catch the yawn. He knew it was early but if these younglings impressed, they would have to be up much earlier. "Sleepy are we?"

Fardles. Caught. Aluka lifted his head to look at the dragonrider, who appeared to be somewhat amused. That was a good sign, which was probably why the redhead said what he did. Either that, or his sarcasm to mouth filter failed spectacularly. "No, sir," Aluka said. "If ya were borin', _then_ I'd be snorin'." Oh. Wait. Maybe running his mouth to a ranker was a bad idea.

"Glad to know. It seems, however, you've just decided to volunteer yourself to be my next example." P'nal smiled and waved the boy up, waiting patiently. The brownrider didn't laugh, but he couldn't help but think it was a bit clever.

Aye, there it was. A bad idea indeed. "Sir, yessir." Aluka yawned again, a bit more obviously now, and got out of his seat, ignoring the snickers and giggles behind him. He'd deal with the laughers later if he had to. He brushed his bangs out of his face as he walked up to P'nal, and stood in front of the rider at parade rest.

"Now obviously snow and rain is going to mean we don't fight. However, we can have heavy wind and still have to fight. That means you and your dragon being blown around to shells and back as well as the thread being blown around. Candidate-what is your first advantage?" He looked at Aluka, waiting for an answer.

Advantage? He wanted an advantage? What the shells kind of question was that? The Candidate somehow kept an annoyed scowl off his face as he thought. "You're ridin' a fire-breathin' beastie," he answered, "who have the ability to coordinate with the rest of the wings to spread out in a more stable flight pattern, such as stacked v-shaped formations, as well as warn each other of Thread." Hopefully that would suffice.

"Well all of that is a good thing, certainly, but the major advantage we have is the ability to go between." P'nal wanted to make them understand that ability was integrated into any threadfighting tactic. "Anytime thread comes too close, we between. Anytime we see somewhere we need to be but it's too far, we between to get there. Between skipping-as we use it in threadfall for short jumps-is very important when the wind can easily blow you off course. That way, you can stay on course as it were." P'nal turned again to look at Aluka.

"So if the wind is blowing very hard and suddenly it sends a thread at your left flank you're the dragon. Show me what you're going to do instinctively."

"I can't, sir," Aluka said in utter deadpan. "I lack the ability to go /between/. I can, however, do this." He swept sideways swiftly and in a pretty good impression of a dragon's airspeed, but without extending his arms in imitation of wings.

"Aye well that was the general idea," P'nal remarked after rubbing his lip for a moment to hide his smile. "Go on and have a seat." Looking again at the rest of the youngsters gathered up, he finished up his little lecture and opened the floor for questions.

Aluka listened quietly as inquiries were made and answers were given, taking still more notes, and when the class was over, watched his fellow Candidates filter out the door. When it was just him and P'nal, he cleared his throat and waited until the dragonrider looked at him. "So wha's my punishment to be, Sir?" Aluka asked. One didn't mouth off to a ranker and go unscathed.

"I wouldn't know. You'll have to ask the weyrlingmasters or the headwoman. You're their responsibility-not mine." Of course, P'nal also didn't know the boy and his history of past transgressions to judge off of so it was better to leave things to the folks that did.

Huh. So this was a ranker who didn't personally want to eat his face or see him raked over the coals? That was different. Then again, this wasn't the hold. Yet another reason on a long-growing list of reasons the Weyr was a better place to be. The redhead collected his notes and stood, hooking his ankle against one of the chair's legs and flicking it into place under the desk. "If it was up to ya, what'd ya want to happen?" he questioned. He could run the reply past the Headwoman.

"Well if you were my wingrider, you'd probably get a reprimand," he answered honestly. "Look threadfighting is hardwork and we know we may die every minute up there. So at the end of the day, it's necessary to blow off a little steam. Then again, we work with each other day in and day out, so the relationship is different and they know their limits. There is a difference between a joke and blatant disrespect." Of course if they had done it to G'nir-that might have been different, but he didn't say that.

"Didn' mean disrespect," Aluka said. And he hadn't, honestly. "My mouth just took off without me. Would it help if I 'pologized?"

"I'll take that under advisement, but like I said-that's all up to the folk responsible for you. One thing you do need to learn, though, sometimes it is necessary to bite your tongue or unnecessary situations will arise and perhaps even harm caused that could have been avoided." One of those life lessons everyone had to learn. Sometimes, it was harder for some-especially those that used a smart mouth for a defense mechanism.

Aluka was almost embarrassed. He had never bitten his tongue in his life; not even around his mother, not even when it landed him in trouble. It had been his defiance in a place he hated. "S'rry," he mumbled.

"You're new here though..." It was easy to figure out. "Listen, the Weyr is different in a lot of ways and it'll take time to figure that out. We are going to do our best, though, to make you ready should you Impress." Knowing it wasn't his place to say anything else, P'nal hoped the boy might get the hint. "Anyway, I've got to be going to get midday meal, but good luck to you."

Ah, yes. Lunch. A good excuse as any to get out of there. "Thank you, Sir. I'll be on my way," the Candidate said, stifling his accent and replacing it with a formal tone. He bowed his head slightly, and left the room. "Whew," he muttered once he was well out of earshot. "Time to thank my lucky stars individually and by name." And not mention
anything to the Headwoman. He had gotten off easy this time, and he was going to keep it that way.

Last updated on the April 1st 2013

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Real Classy, Kid