Hello loves! While I haven't been writing, I have been working on updating some issues that have been hanging around on the layout! The Character change box is now at the bottom of the page, beside the up/down arrows! Green and Gold dragon flight dates have been shifted to the bottom of the page, where the (useless!) discord widget was located. Where the dragon flights were in the header, is now replaced by a Monthly Event box! This will be updated at the start of each month, with a fun mini-event you can take part in, if you want to! Thistle!
11.Sep.12, 06:46 AM
R'nya watched silently as T'shiro took control, standing back without comment as he analysed the Wingsecond, expression and eyes giving away nothing of his inner thoughts. It was good, to be a member of a wing again, but that was to be expected. Not everyone seemed quite so thrilled about it, and R'nya's pale gaze shifted over each face individually, analysing those that were his wingmates, and his riders.
Not everyone was quite as good at hiding their thoughts and opinions of either himself or the bronzerider issuing the current commands, and R'nya took not of faces, body language and a few quiet comments thrown around. The Wingleader didn't call attention to anyone for any of it - slip ups or purposeful insubordination, as he watched them form their line and when T'shiro gave the mark, watched as they all dropped to the ground with varying amounts of enthusiasm, skill or strength. Lips pursed slightly, R'nya moved over to join them, dropping to the ground and preforming his own required pushups before jogging up the field.
The reason for his slower paced run was more than obvious, as he eyed off each of the other riders, nodding without words to those that were pelting back past him to complete another round of pushups and more lengths, but his eyes were seeking out those that were struggling, what they were struggling with, and why they were struggling. The greenriders were by far the worse off, struggling with sprinting and pushups; like dragon like rider, they appeared to lack the stamina of their buddies. Well, that wouldn't do. But he couldn't have them all dropping dead on him, either.
R'nya considered for a moment, dropping to the ground again to progress through another round of pushups, and watched as a greenrider struggled valiantly through them, stumbled to his feet and took off at an exhausted run. It was far from a sprint, but the man wasn't slacking. He was just... incredibly unfit. R'nya gave a sigh through his nose and climbed tidily to his feet. Jogging down the field, he noticed the easy grace of the brownriders, and several of the blue. He noticed the way they threw looks at the struggling greens, but made no move to assist them. He'd also noticed one brownrider's clumsy stumble, and the way two blues had snickered under their breath.
This wing needed a lot of work.
"Walk it off!"
His voicing of words, after over thirty minutes of watching the various rider's comply with his orders, could have been lost in the huffing, puffing and swearing of the men and women in his wing, but it appeared the majority had been waiting for them. As they complied, hands clamping stitches or simply resting on hips, R'nya walked a cool down himself, watching the others go through the motions for several minutes.Finally, R'nya raised a hand and indicated that they should come to him.
"I am disappointed in you, gentlemen." Some of them were fidgeting, a few looked ready to collapse, while others stood tall and proud. Pale, stormy eyes passed over each individual, pointedly including the three women in his statement - one had had a smirk twisting her lips, which quickly vanished; their gender would win them no relaxation of rules from him and there weren't enough of them for him to feel it worth the breath to include their gender in the statement. There was no point in sugar coating his statement, and R'nya watched their expressions with interest, though his features gave little away.
"No one asked if they should remove their dragon's flight straps. Do you often leave your beast strapped while you are otherwise occupied?" He didn't allow time for anyone to speak up in answer, "No one asked if they should warm up before sprinting several lengths." Some of them had managed several rounds before he called a halt; several of the greenriders had barely managed three.
"Several of you are weyrmates, are you not?" He was well aware of which pairings D'ren had given to him, and he met the eye of each rider in question, watching their expressions. "Do you often stand back and watch your partner struggle?" A small pause, and one of R'nya's eyebrows arched slightly, now speaking to the group at large. "Did your Weyrlingmaster's teach you to mock your wingmates?" R'nya's expression faded back into neutral as his eyebrows lowered. "I will not tolerate stupidity, laziness or insubordination. However, I am not unfair. I am aware several of you have held various positions of rank throughout your lives as dragonriders - both before and after the Plague." He watched with inner amusement as several riders flinched at the taboo word. "There are ways to display your talents without stepping on toes and I would like to see a little more initiative, gentlemen!"
Pausing to let the wingriders take in those words, R'nya bespoke his dragon: Take their dragons for a fly. Nothing exciting. Just fly to the far boundary of the Ranges and back. Even the laziest one should be able to do that with little issue.
Yes, sir. Xyreith turned his gaze upon the dragons, broadening his mental reach to include each of them. We are to fly to the Eastern border and back. No exuberance. In the air, and in basic formation. Let's go! Pushing off from the ground, Xyreith extended his wings, pulling against gravity to take to the air first, gaze linked with R'nya's so the man could feed him instructions as required. Such as for that green! Larrikith! Xyreith's voice was a stern bark of displeasure, though R'nya was fed the shock the bronze felt at the way the dragon used between to appear in the air and hover smugly.
Leave her behind. Tell her she is to practice the art of take off until you get back. Take off, three wingbeats, land and repeat. Yes, sir. Xyreith repeated the instructions, watching as the tiny green bristled before ignoring her and eyeing off the basic formation the riderless dragons had formed. You. Xyreith turned his attention on Ayyonth at a prompt from R'nya. His voice was audible to the entire dragon wing; Mate or wing? The bronze waited mildly for the answer, interested to see the answer he'd receive, particularly after his bonded's question a moment previous to the assorted riders. How many dragons had been listening through their humans? How many dragons had more brains than their human counterpart? I am enjoying today, he commented slyly to R'nya, who ignored him.
"Ignore them." R'nya commanded, reclaiming the attention of several distracted riders as they realised something was going on with the dragons, who were still in full riding straps. R'nay didn't actually believe they needed to have them removed at present, especially since he knew most of those before him fluttered around the Weyr without them. It would do the dragons good to get used to wearing them more often than not once more. He'd get T'shiro to run a check on them all before they split for the evening; R'nya wasn't a betting man, but he knew he'd win if he bet on most of them needing to be remade - badly. "Tell me, gentlemen, how you plan to improve the function of this wing."
R'nya's expression clearly indicated he knew exactly how he was going to transform the mismatched collection of lazy would-be riders into a functioning wing. It also clearly indicated he wanted them to show the initiative he'd previously told them he wanted to see. A glance to T'shiro was given to keep the Second silent. He didn't want to hear what his Second thought they should do; he'd talk to him later about his ideas. For now, he wanted to see how many of these kids were full of hot air, how many were truly lazy, and how many actually had a head on their shoulders worth keeping for when Thread fell.
[sup]Good lord, sorry for the novel :| R'nya had a lot to say >_>
Not everyone was quite as good at hiding their thoughts and opinions of either himself or the bronzerider issuing the current commands, and R'nya took not of faces, body language and a few quiet comments thrown around. The Wingleader didn't call attention to anyone for any of it - slip ups or purposeful insubordination, as he watched them form their line and when T'shiro gave the mark, watched as they all dropped to the ground with varying amounts of enthusiasm, skill or strength. Lips pursed slightly, R'nya moved over to join them, dropping to the ground and preforming his own required pushups before jogging up the field.
The reason for his slower paced run was more than obvious, as he eyed off each of the other riders, nodding without words to those that were pelting back past him to complete another round of pushups and more lengths, but his eyes were seeking out those that were struggling, what they were struggling with, and why they were struggling. The greenriders were by far the worse off, struggling with sprinting and pushups; like dragon like rider, they appeared to lack the stamina of their buddies. Well, that wouldn't do. But he couldn't have them all dropping dead on him, either.
R'nya considered for a moment, dropping to the ground again to progress through another round of pushups, and watched as a greenrider struggled valiantly through them, stumbled to his feet and took off at an exhausted run. It was far from a sprint, but the man wasn't slacking. He was just... incredibly unfit. R'nya gave a sigh through his nose and climbed tidily to his feet. Jogging down the field, he noticed the easy grace of the brownriders, and several of the blue. He noticed the way they threw looks at the struggling greens, but made no move to assist them. He'd also noticed one brownrider's clumsy stumble, and the way two blues had snickered under their breath.
This wing needed a lot of work.
"Walk it off!"
His voicing of words, after over thirty minutes of watching the various rider's comply with his orders, could have been lost in the huffing, puffing and swearing of the men and women in his wing, but it appeared the majority had been waiting for them. As they complied, hands clamping stitches or simply resting on hips, R'nya walked a cool down himself, watching the others go through the motions for several minutes.Finally, R'nya raised a hand and indicated that they should come to him.
"I am disappointed in you, gentlemen." Some of them were fidgeting, a few looked ready to collapse, while others stood tall and proud. Pale, stormy eyes passed over each individual, pointedly including the three women in his statement - one had had a smirk twisting her lips, which quickly vanished; their gender would win them no relaxation of rules from him and there weren't enough of them for him to feel it worth the breath to include their gender in the statement. There was no point in sugar coating his statement, and R'nya watched their expressions with interest, though his features gave little away.
"No one asked if they should remove their dragon's flight straps. Do you often leave your beast strapped while you are otherwise occupied?" He didn't allow time for anyone to speak up in answer, "No one asked if they should warm up before sprinting several lengths." Some of them had managed several rounds before he called a halt; several of the greenriders had barely managed three.
"Several of you are weyrmates, are you not?" He was well aware of which pairings D'ren had given to him, and he met the eye of each rider in question, watching their expressions. "Do you often stand back and watch your partner struggle?" A small pause, and one of R'nya's eyebrows arched slightly, now speaking to the group at large. "Did your Weyrlingmaster's teach you to mock your wingmates?" R'nya's expression faded back into neutral as his eyebrows lowered. "I will not tolerate stupidity, laziness or insubordination. However, I am not unfair. I am aware several of you have held various positions of rank throughout your lives as dragonriders - both before and after the Plague." He watched with inner amusement as several riders flinched at the taboo word. "There are ways to display your talents without stepping on toes and I would like to see a little more initiative, gentlemen!"
Pausing to let the wingriders take in those words, R'nya bespoke his dragon: Take their dragons for a fly. Nothing exciting. Just fly to the far boundary of the Ranges and back. Even the laziest one should be able to do that with little issue.
Yes, sir. Xyreith turned his gaze upon the dragons, broadening his mental reach to include each of them. We are to fly to the Eastern border and back. No exuberance. In the air, and in basic formation. Let's go! Pushing off from the ground, Xyreith extended his wings, pulling against gravity to take to the air first, gaze linked with R'nya's so the man could feed him instructions as required. Such as for that green! Larrikith! Xyreith's voice was a stern bark of displeasure, though R'nya was fed the shock the bronze felt at the way the dragon used between to appear in the air and hover smugly.
Leave her behind. Tell her she is to practice the art of take off until you get back. Take off, three wingbeats, land and repeat. Yes, sir. Xyreith repeated the instructions, watching as the tiny green bristled before ignoring her and eyeing off the basic formation the riderless dragons had formed. You. Xyreith turned his attention on Ayyonth at a prompt from R'nya. His voice was audible to the entire dragon wing; Mate or wing? The bronze waited mildly for the answer, interested to see the answer he'd receive, particularly after his bonded's question a moment previous to the assorted riders. How many dragons had been listening through their humans? How many dragons had more brains than their human counterpart? I am enjoying today, he commented slyly to R'nya, who ignored him.
"Ignore them." R'nya commanded, reclaiming the attention of several distracted riders as they realised something was going on with the dragons, who were still in full riding straps. R'nay didn't actually believe they needed to have them removed at present, especially since he knew most of those before him fluttered around the Weyr without them. It would do the dragons good to get used to wearing them more often than not once more. He'd get T'shiro to run a check on them all before they split for the evening; R'nya wasn't a betting man, but he knew he'd win if he bet on most of them needing to be remade - badly. "Tell me, gentlemen, how you plan to improve the function of this wing."
R'nya's expression clearly indicated he knew exactly how he was going to transform the mismatched collection of lazy would-be riders into a functioning wing. It also clearly indicated he wanted them to show the initiative he'd previously told them he wanted to see. A glance to T'shiro was given to keep the Second silent. He didn't want to hear what his Second thought they should do; he'd talk to him later about his ideas. For now, he wanted to see how many of these kids were full of hot air, how many were truly lazy, and how many actually had a head on their shoulders worth keeping for when Thread fell.
[sup]Good lord, sorry for the novel :| R'nya had a lot to say >_>
