[PRP] Insolence (J'deen, F'dral, possible dergs)

[Tsunake]

It was impossible to not feel some sort of embarrassment, hearing that the current lot of candidates yet again agitated the unhatched dragonets to the point of preemptively shutting things down. The sire and queen were both new parents, but that didn't excuse their accusations that the Candidatemaster was somehow. at fault. Rekoriath, normally so amused with the drama of the Weyr, informed his rider of much with all seriousness. He knew that J'deen was.... fond of F'dral, to say the least. After much gnashing of his teeth, the small rider waited until later that evening before he made his way to F'dral's weyr, staring down those in his path with unblinking judgement.

Mine comes at Yours' convenience. Rekoriath relayed politely to Sinrunth.... before promptly resorting to a more drawling, waspish tone. The audacity of youth. As though catching a queen suddenly bestows all the wisdom and experience a young bronze could ever need, mm? Better you than me. I wouldn't have handled it nearly so well. He could admit his flaws, but having His judged by a freshly hatched dragon (in his opinion), wasn't something he'd easily stand for.

J'deen rapped his knuckles upon the door twice in sharp succession before settling back to wait. He could have flown over on Rekoriath, true--but he wanted F'dral to know that he'd deliberately taken time for this. If the man didn't want to talk, he would go, but... Tch, he still seethed to think that this whole situation could somehow be pinned upon the other's shoulders.

Uta

 

[Uta]

Tsunake

Sorry for the heckin' long delay. <<

It had been a day.

His report to D'mon and Zheria had been an unpleasant affair and the Candidates themselves had been given a dressing down. While they hadn't all been at fault, there were certain individuals who had made a mess of it for everyone. A wing was only as strong as it's weakest rider, and right now, the Candidates were only as good as their most badly behaved. Unfortunately, for what should have been a momentous day in their lives, it had now been marked as nothing but a disappointing day with potentially devastating results. Add to it what Aresoth and C'ryn had to say, and it only added salt to his wounded pride.

The audacity of that young whelp.

He would need to shake things up with the Candidates, and start separating the unruly lot from the rest. How foolish were the youth of today, and why on Sinrunth' shell, couldn't they follow a few basic orders? How difficult was it to think good thoughts at a dragon egg? He had done it when he'd been standing, so many Turns prior. To upset the eggs only a few moments into the Touching...

Bah.

To say he was livid was an understatement. He was... absolutely, positively furious.

But F'dral was nothing if not a compose man, and though he might be enraged, he would make sure he took it out on the right individuals. The Candidates would be on extremely thin ice for the next few months, and F'dral wasn't going to take chances. Where he might have stayed in his office in the Candidates barracks, for tonight, he'd returned to his weyr--he'd seen enough of them for one day. If they were extremely lucky, he'd be less disgusted and irate come morning; if he wasn't, heads would most certainly roll.

Sinrunth gave a small grunt at Rekoriath's words, eyes whirling red in irritation. Not at him, or his rider, but simply from the day's events. How good of him.[/i He commended, knowing that F'dral would appreciate the distraction. Hmph. He's nothing more an an inexperienced whelp, and I hope it doesn't effect those in the egg. I would have preferred an older bronze as the sire, but what's done is done. An inexperienced queen, and an inexperienced bronze. Feh. There were fools all over Pern, after all--High Reaches Weyr included. No discipline among the lot of them. Surely, things weren't so bad when Ours were so young.

F'dral had been warned of J'deen's arrival from Sinrunth, so he wasn't surprised at the knock. It took but a moment, before he unlocked the door, and opened it. "J'deen," he invited, his usual serious scowl just as dark as it had been earlier. He waited for the other man to enter, before shutting the door. "What say you to the day's events, hmm? What have you heard from the other side?" He could only imagine how his name would be sullied. He was no Gr'del--he hadn't been soft on the Candidates--but apparently, some of them couldn't follow basic instruction.

"Drink?" He asked, even as he made his way over to a small, wooden table, with a bottle of Igen Desert liquor already opened, next to a small bucket of ice. It was clear he'd already had a few drinks, and more were likely to follow.  

[Tsunake]

With luck. He agreed sourly. Their linage will hopefully shine through, and they'll be unaffected by poor judgement. Rekoriath agreed. As for how things were back in the day? The dragon rumbled a sigh. The return of Thread seems to have brought out the sheer entitlement in the youth of today. They forget their place. Never mind the young dragons and riders, but the Candidates to boot. It didn't matter how many times the lessons were all but beaten into them. Someone inevitably upset one of the young dragons, unable to contain their thoughts and emotions.

"F'dral," His voice was a quieter rasp, and he stepped inside. "Oh, nothing more than the usual. Yet again the Candidates have embarrassed themselves on the sands. Rumor even has it that the young father attempted to put the Candidatemaster's dragon in his place.... whatever he thought that shardin' place was."

He nodded slightly at the offer of a drink, making his way over as well. He certainly wouldn't say no. "It's got me wondering how you even tolerate these little brats. But there's a reason you're the man in charge and not me." J'deen certainly didn't have the patience or tolerance that was needed--he was much better lurking in the shadows and stomping out what little rebellions he could found.

With an effort, he kept his mouth shut. He could have railed on the Candidates for days if he'd been allowed, never mind Aresoth and C'ryn and their sheer audacity. Rekoriath rumbled ominously, picking up on his rider's simmering rage.

Uta

NEVAR SORRY. <3 Also, switched font colors for Rekoriath because I kept going GOLD??? orz