Who: Lyndee, Geneve and Cr'pel.
When: 7:04pm on day 13, month 7, turn 2
Where: Southern Bowl
What: Lyndee and Dallianth fly together for the first time, whilst Geneve and Cr'pel engage in something that could be considered an argument.


"Come on, Cr'pel. No need to be /quite/ so defeatest." Which isn't to say that Geneve doesn't look, or sound, concerned: she does. "I have visions of clutches of forty or fifty, and maybe even more than one at a time, and that makes me want to quit this job right now - though I won't - but the point is, I think we'll get there eventually. We just have to survive that long." She goes silent, as the other brownrider yells at the weyrling, watching, and saying nothing.

Cr'pel just grunts again. "Realistic," he grumps back at Geneve and folds his arms across his chest stubbornly. "Here's hoping. Though the weyrlingmster'll need more help for groups that large." Another weyrling pair takes off, circling testing out wings and this time, Cr'pel has no nasty remarks to make.

Geneve and Cr'pel are watching over weyrlings practicing flight, and talking between them. "Negative," she tells him, though not unkindly. "And unnecessarily so. She will," she agrees, quietly, casting an appraising eye over the weyrlings. "More extra duties for riders who're still needed to keep our numbers up in the wings. But we'll manage."

As per usual, it's Dallianth ambling ahead and Lyndee keeping a careful eye on her from a few paces behind. The greenrider notes the presence of those she approaches with a salute somehow aimed at both and a quick, "Ma'am, Sir," eyes almost immediately back on Dallianth in case she gets any ideas she shouldn't.

Tic. The tic's started in Cr'pel's cheek at that response. He shoots Geneve a /look/. And then grunts again. "It's what we do." Mumbled down low about managing and he rubs at his left hand absently while watching the next pair take off. Lyndee's approach shifts his eyes to the blonde and his jaw sets. "Weyrling. Ready to get into the rotation?" He nods towards the ongoing manned flights.

Geneve caught that tic. And while it doesn't look as though it was something she was trying to provoke, there's a faint sense of satisfaction to her smile, which she abruptly turns about so that she can give Lyndee a more encouraging grin. "Lyndee," she greets, head bobbing, though she lets Cr'pel take charge - his lesson, not hers.

"Yes, sir." Lyndee nods a confirmation and though she tries to return a smile to Geneve, she looks sharply back to Dallianth as the green takes an over-eager step forward. "Dalli," she murmurs, under her breath. "Where would you like us, sir?" she asks Cr'pel. Perhaps not a question she wants an honest answer to, but polite at least.

Jaw still tight, Cr'pel jerks his head towards the line of weyrlings. "Right there, with the rest. In the line." Cranky, cranky. "Strap check before you take off. Buckle in. Helmet on. Up, one time around the Bowl, down. We'll be watchin'. Land and get back in line." He rattles the instructions off and folds his arms across his chest again. Geneve? Geneve who?

"You won't need too many wingbeats," puts in Geneve, at that point, helpful, and probably reasserting her presence to Cr'pel. "Just take it easy, and you'll be fine."

Another quick, "Yes, sir," and an appreciative nod in Geneve's direction and Lyndee's following Dallianth to join the back of the line. Maybe not quite the right instructed order, but her helmet is grabbed from under her arm and dealt with first to get it out of the way. Dallianth shivers, though seems to calm as words from her rider process. The blonde is already eyeing and tugging at straps to ensure they're sorted correctly before they reach the front of the line.

Tic. Tic. Tic. Cr'pel's mouth just twists sourly and he nods as Lyndee musters into the group. A blue and his rider gather some speed and launch into the air. Their take-off is pretty smooth and they only bobble a little as they come around. The landing tosses the rider around a little and Cr'pel just lifts a hand and scrubs his face with the palm.

"Getting there!" calls out Gen, for the benefit of the bluerider. "Just need to smooth that landing out a bit. Good work, though." The fact that she seems so unusually sunny today is probably just a magnification effect; the comparison between herself and Cr'pel is certainly, as ever, striking.

Front of the line. Straps, buckles, deep breath. Dallianth doesn't appear to have lost the excessive spring in her take-off, but it seems she has learned to balance the force out sooner rather than later. Still, Lyndee lurches in the straps and if her unnaturally stern expression is anything to go by, she's exerting force to dampen Dallianth's enthusiasm and keep her to only the required wingbeats, as instructed. Their trip around the bowl isn't exactly smooth, but the green's landing is better and almost delicate for her build. Then they're still for a long, long moment and, a rare occurrence indeed, Lyndee isn't looking directly into Dallianth's eyes as she speaks to her. A smile of relief and then quickly to the back of the line.

[DTU] To Dallianth and Pendarith, Sembruth watches lazily from the ground. << Slower up next time. Or at least try not to throw yourself at the air, Dallianth. Don't need to. >> His tone is non-chalant. << Nice landing. >>

Cr'pel's nostrils pinch at that wobbly take off and then he's just watching squint-eyed and grumbling under his breath. "Not bad!" is his called out faint praise. "Keep at it. It'll get better."

Geneve, for a fellow woman, has nothing but praise: "Excellent, Lyndee. You two are going to be good fliers, I can see it already."

[DTU] To Pendarith and Sembruth, Dallianth agrees with quite a stunned, << Slower is better. Don't want to hurt Lyndee. >> Her tone brightens significantly when she adds a quick, almost chirped, << Thank you. >>

[DTU] To Dallianth and Sembruth, Pendarith joins in to agree with Sembruth's assessment. << Good work, >> he notes, praising the green. << Though we all know you'd never hurt *Lyndee* - but yes, slower is better. Excellent! >>

A small smile grows and then Lyndee outright beams before toning it down to an appropriate level, exhaling slowly. A short burst of laughter follows, tinged with obvious relief. Dallianth is straight back to business, clearly considering how to go about things when she gets to the front of the line again, still and taking careful steps forward instead of rushed.

[DTU] To Dallianth and Pendarith, Sembruth gives a mental impression of doling out a gentle shoulder nudge. << You betcha. And they do seem to like it smooth, yeah. >> Laid-back and stoic where Cr'pel is so grouchy, the elder brown flashes an image of further flight. << Be up with the wings in no time. >> >>

While Lyndee is laughing, Cr'pel turns slightly towards Geneve. "Why do you have to layer it on so thick? It sets them up to make more mistakes," he mutters lowly and darkly to her.

"It encourages them," says Geneve, responding to Cr'pel without looking at him, her eyes focused on Lyndee, apparently approving of the girl's happiness. "I'm not telling them they haven't made mistakes, just letting them know that they're doing good." Though she is known for having something of a soft spot for those girls. "We want confidence. Not over-confidence. But confidence, definitely."

Back to the front of the line once more and Dallianth actually looks between the ground and the sky, as if telling her limbs not to catapult her quite so much. She's somewhat successful; her assent is slower, but used to over-compensating, she dips a little and glides before getting back into the stride of flight again. Lyndee glances about the bowl, but her focus doesn't tend to leave her green, even as they land relatively neatly again.

"Doesn't sound that way to me. You gloss over too much," Cr'pel grouses at Geneve. "And I don't see confidence. I see stupid." He's frowning tightly and his jaw is jumping again. "You're going to get them sharding killed."

[DTU] To Pendarith and Sembruth, Dallianth gets a little caught up with the idea of further flight, some of her usual light seeping into her tone, though carefully held back as she concentrates. << You think so? >> she asks, tentatively. << I want to show her she's right to not be ashamed of us. >>

Rather than respond immediately to Cr'pel, Geneve concentrates on the weyrlings, and, at this point, Lyndee in particular. "Better," she tells the girl. Eyes rolling, and voice made louder, as if deliberately to annoy Cr'pel, she adds, "Just need to smooth it out. Cr'pel," she continues, all in the same breath, "I am not a sharding idiot. I want them alive. I know what I'm doing. I haven't lost it." Unspoken, but perhaps implied: unlike you.

[DTU] To Dallianth and Sembruth, Pendarith extends the image, Dallianth amid the wings, flaming beautifully, nothing but ash dropping down towards the ground. << She is right, but yes, it is good to prove that to her. As often as necessary. You will be a fine addition to the wings, young Dallianth. >>

[DTU] To Dallianth and Pendarith, Sembruth is almost jovial. << Getting better all the time, sweet stuff. Ashamed? Nah. >> The brown at least just brushes that all aside readily.

Dallianth steps out of the line for a few seconds, flexing a wing almost thoughtfully. When she goes to reclaim her place, Lyndee leans forward a little, questioning - though still not speaking aloud - to make sure everything's right. When they reach the front of the line, Dallianth corrects her previous errors by springing and not pushing excessive force back in the same moment. This time around the bowl seems less complicated with no balance error to correct, maybe a little smoother. Back to the ground and perhaps they're getting the hang of it. Maybe.

"No. You don't." Cr'pel states baldly, still speaking in that tense undertone. "You're too sharding young. You haven't lived enough. You're too gung-ho out there yourself. They need to be more /careful/." Yeah that jaw hasn't stopped tic-ing and jumping at all in the last little while. "Go around twice this time!" he shouts out to the Weyrlings at large.

[DTU] To Pendarith and Sembruth, Dallianth hastily clamps down on a burst of warm amber light from her direction and settles for a careful, yet reasonably perky, << I hope so. >>

"Careful," says Geneve, at an undertone, "creates indecision. They need to be able to make split-second decisions. They need to trust their instincts. I'm a good rider, Cr'pel. Maybe you don't want to see it, but I'm one of the best. These weyrlings? Either they want to be like me, or they want to be better, because I'm just a girl. That's what they need, to get it right. -- Lyndee, that was much better. Keep it up."

A tilt of the head and 'twice' is checked with Lyndee, then happily accepted by Dallianth. The young green has to think about her launch again and it's physically obvious that she does so, but once in the air she appears to understand that she has to pace herself this time for longer flight. Lyndee pays more attention to the world beyond her lifemate and seems to peer intently and make note of where she would expect others in a wing to be before they land.

Gritting his teeth, Cr'pel glares at Geneve. "They need to make the /right/ sharding split-second decisions, and not toss themselves at things crazy-like. Which you do. You only think you're one of the best. Everyone covered for you in the wing, you know. S'dric is a blind idiot." Narrowed eyes fix on the plump assistant and then dance back to the Weyrlings. "Come on! Hop to it, two circles this time, smooth landings all of you and then over to the lake or the baths to clean up after. Barracks cleanup after that!" His voice rings out sharp and tense. Sembruth's eyes are whirling a little more and he's looking towards his rider now, the scarred brown shifting from foot to foot uncertainly.

Geneve does turn her head towards Cr'pel this time - and she laughs. "The delusions you people come up with, to satisfy your world view! Faranth, Cr'pel. Look, I think it's good that you're cautious. I think it's important that they learn from different kinds of people, and get the important parts from all of them. But I'm trying to teach these weyrlings to trust each other, and you're destroying that. Faranth. I'm going in." This said, and with one last bob of her head for the weyrlings, she departs for the barracks, with a jaunty step.

Deciding not to push their luck as far as Dallianth's stamina is concerned, Lyndee and her green quite agreeably break from the group and head towards the lake after their final trip round the bowl. The blonde doesn't look up from Dallianth - almost as if she's afraid of what she'll find - and concentrates on removing straps, her helmet following. Dallianth all but slinks her way into the water, slowly, her rider's gaze still trained intently on her.

As the lesson breaks up, Cr'pel's eyes get all the more electrified and angry. "You're the deluded one," is his less than snappy comeback to Geneve as the gloves come off somewhat. "They can't trust each other if they can't trust their abilities. Those have to be there first. Until then --" he breaks off clears his throat. "Yes! Dismissed!" to clarify to one of the weyrlings asking and his nostrils pinch again as Geneve states her intention to leave. He speaks not another word, just stalk-limps off in the opposite direction to meet Sembruth, pulls himself painfully aboard. A moment later they're taking off for their weyr. He's not at any chore sections or class work later on or in drills the next morning either.

Geneve, listening to Cr'pel as she walks away, but not looking at him, rolls her eyes. "Bigot," she mutters, under her breath, as she disappears within.

[DTU] To Dallianth and Pendarith, Sembruth nudges another happy thought Dallianth's way. << Nice circles. >> Then retreats a little, saying quietly: << Gotta take the boss home though. See you later. >>