10.Oct.12, 09:42 AM
While there was a plate beside him and a knife resting upon it, it was quite obvious that the majority of R'nya's attention was focused heavily on the sheets of parchment he was occasionally shuffling around, and the pen he was twisting between his fingers, occasionally tapping the tip of it against the parchment before shifting to another sheet and jotting down a note.
He'd only been Wingleader for a short period of time, and while R'nya knew he had vastly over thought the process in the first few sevendays, he was content to think he'd found his pace when it came to organising the lessons. The evaluations the month prior had been insightful and R'nya had reacted accordingly - he liked to think. There were complaints, of course, but he had the Wing playing children's games in the Gather Square when he didn't have them running laps or doing pushups. Complaints were to be expected. Thus far, the Weyrleader had yet to respond negatively to any of his reports and so R'nya was content with his progress. He could only improve, and improve he would, and so too would his wing.
As he shifted sheets, R'nya picked up a slice of wherry, chewing it thoughtfully and wiping his fingers on the cloth beside his plate as he watched a group of weyrbrats gather around a table without really seeing them. He was busy trying to decide what it was he should have the Wing undergo in three days time when they were due for their next practice... The tossing of the cloth by the children brought his attention back to them more fully and R'nya watched without expression as the ringleader stepped forward and mocked a visibly smaller brat. The bronzerider's eyebrows twitched slightly, almost frowning, before he slowly took his gaze from the children as the group walked off, leaving the tiny brat alone.
When the child made his way to his table, R'nya again lifted his gaze from the sheets of parchment he had been working on. Watching as the boy started at the far end of the table, R'nya carefully and neatly stacked his papers into a pile and put them to one side. The wingleader gave the weyrbrat a polite nod of his head as he also shifted his plate to one side, shuffling the papers and picking out the one he wanted. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully before lifting to look at the boy.
"What is your favourite game, boy?"
while his voice very well may have come out of no where, it was rich and low, a warm and soothing sound that R'nya didn't play up at all. His eyes were clear and pale as he searched the boy's face, not unaware of the various evidence in his posture and body language that belied various styles of abuse, but not feeling it worthy of his comment at that point.
He'd only been Wingleader for a short period of time, and while R'nya knew he had vastly over thought the process in the first few sevendays, he was content to think he'd found his pace when it came to organising the lessons. The evaluations the month prior had been insightful and R'nya had reacted accordingly - he liked to think. There were complaints, of course, but he had the Wing playing children's games in the Gather Square when he didn't have them running laps or doing pushups. Complaints were to be expected. Thus far, the Weyrleader had yet to respond negatively to any of his reports and so R'nya was content with his progress. He could only improve, and improve he would, and so too would his wing.
As he shifted sheets, R'nya picked up a slice of wherry, chewing it thoughtfully and wiping his fingers on the cloth beside his plate as he watched a group of weyrbrats gather around a table without really seeing them. He was busy trying to decide what it was he should have the Wing undergo in three days time when they were due for their next practice... The tossing of the cloth by the children brought his attention back to them more fully and R'nya watched without expression as the ringleader stepped forward and mocked a visibly smaller brat. The bronzerider's eyebrows twitched slightly, almost frowning, before he slowly took his gaze from the children as the group walked off, leaving the tiny brat alone.
When the child made his way to his table, R'nya again lifted his gaze from the sheets of parchment he had been working on. Watching as the boy started at the far end of the table, R'nya carefully and neatly stacked his papers into a pile and put them to one side. The wingleader gave the weyrbrat a polite nod of his head as he also shifted his plate to one side, shuffling the papers and picking out the one he wanted. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully before lifting to look at the boy.
"What is your favourite game, boy?"
while his voice very well may have come out of no where, it was rich and low, a warm and soothing sound that R'nya didn't play up at all. His eyes were clear and pale as he searched the boy's face, not unaware of the various evidence in his posture and body language that belied various styles of abuse, but not feeling it worthy of his comment at that point.