Face the Music [D'ren]

R'nya strode with a quiet confidence into the Dining Hall, not unaware of the glances his presence was now earning when he entered a crowd. It wasn't something he was particularly against, but it was certainly rolling to be a shock to the man's system. R'nya was used to being unacknowledged; he was one of those rider's that the eyes of others usually slid over without paying much attention. It wasn't that R'nya was unattractive, or even unapproachable. The bronzerider simply preferred to remain outside of the spotlight. He had a quite, unassuming presence that made it easy to be unnoticed. Not being a colourist, R'nya didn't expect to be worshiped because he'd had the good fortune to become bonded to Xyreith so many turns ago.

As a result, R'nya had no idea what it was he'd managed to do, in order to gain D'ren's attention. Certainly, he had no idea what it was he had done that would make the Weyrleader think he was worthy of a position of Wingleader. He himself had held no rank of note before the Plague; he had only been bonded to his Xyreith for four turns - they had barely been graduates. Now, after sixteen turns of being rankless in general, the Weyrleader had saw fit to put him in control of a rag tag bunch and train them up to be a Wing. Regardless, R'nya would do the best job he could... Though he hadn't been given much to work with, not much at all.

Light eyes glanced around the Hall, noting quite a few members of his own wing, and their various responses: from those that nodded to him to those that pretended to ignore him, to the one that actually didn't see him. Turning his gaze from them without further thought or indication than a few vaguely returned nods, the Wingleader sought out D'ren. He had enquired as to the Weyrleader's whereabouts earlier in the evening, but the man had been preoccupied. Having Xyreith check in so he could visit the man after his evening meal had produced a rather well timed fact: D'ren was at his own meal.

He found the Weyrleader sitting alone, but was not particularly surprised by that, despite the fact that the other man was at a common table, rather than the raised table he was meant to occupy. R'nya was a fan of following the requirements of rank, and found it slightly baffling when other's didn't see the need. When they actively brushed away their rank, as if they didn't want it, or when they didn't enforce it for whatever reason they might have. That wasn't to say R'nya considered himself a particularly obnoxious person; he did, in fact, feel he had taken on the new rank he had been given with grace and remarkably little ego. But he still made sure his wing responded to the fact that he was their Wingleader and not a fellow wingmate.

"Sir," R'nya's voice was low and clear, the bronzerider stopping before his leader, standing at ease on the other side of the table. The pause lasted long enough for him to be the recipient of an invitation to take a seat, an action R'nya followed through with gracefully. "May I have a moment of your time?"

D'ren hated sitting at that isolated table. It was tolerable when he didn't have to sit there alone, perching on a throne of unnecessary acknowledgement, but he wasn't so lucky today. Tsuen was watching the baby and Jada was otherwise engaged, while the others of note hadn't yet arrived. D'ren was fine with that. He'd never cared for E'lore, though he tolerated her gracefully when he needed to, and his uncertainty regarding his new Weyrsecond left him less than enthusiastic over sharing dinner with him. N'gelt's colorism was a problem, and didn't he have a weyrmate he was neglecting? Perhaps abusing? Bah, D'ren didn't want to think about that too much!

He was surprised when a voice called out to him, though he smiled pleasantly the moment he realized who it was. "Ah. R'nya. It's nice to see you. Please, have a seat."

R'nya was so easy to miss. D'ren was thankful for having noticed him, for he'd turned out to be quite a gem. It was a natural for  D'ren to look towards the less vocal men after the private scandal with S'kef. M'bal had been a dead end as well, and all the other eager candidates for Weyrsecond were exposed (indirectly) by J'ver for something or another....and obviously none of them were fit to be wingleaders, either!

D'ren had been forced to look deeper, and he liked what he found.

The Weyrleader nodded politely to his fellow bronzerider and took a sip of wine. "What can I do for you, R'nya?"

R'nya was personally pleased that his Weyrleader was seated alone that evening. He had no desire to voice his thoughts and feelings about his new wing with the ladies poking their noses in. Not knowing any of the women in question on a personal level, R'nya couldn't say if he was being reasonable or not in his opinion that they might shove their opinion in uncalled for, or if they would let them talk in peace. They were well ranked women, and he had no desire to offend any of them. But he wished to speak to D'ren about what he had made notes of, not the Weyrwoman or her assistants.

The missing Weyrsecond was an added bonus, for the same reason. R'nya was sure that the man would likely be full of many interesting tidbits and ideas, but he was rather eager to prove his worth on his own, and he had more than enough issues with his own wingriders having more experience and opinion than he often called for. It was going to be an interesting battle, getting them into shape. Physically, mentally, emotionally. They were a mess. A rag tag combination of lazy busy bodies and sexual expansionists.

D'ren's question earned a mild look from R'nya, the younger bronzerider considering the offer thoughtfully. Leaning back in his seat silently, R'nya poured himself a glass of wine. He wasn't ignoring the Weyrleader, but rather gathering his thoughts and considering how best to begin the conversation he wished to have with the other bronzerider. "Not a lot," R'nya replied mildly, taking a sip of his drink. That, at least, was fair to say. He didn't consider there was a lot the Weyrleader could do. He was content to get his wing into shape on his own steam, but he was interested in bouncing his thoughts and opinions off the more experienced man. R'nya hadn't run a wing before, and was simply running off his experience as a wingrider prior to the plague.

But damned if that wasn't a decade and a half ago!

"Wing practice was a disaster." He peered over the edge of his wineglass as he spoke, an eyebrow arching slightly in a very vague expression of amusement. Rather than being thrown off by the fact that he'd been given a bunch of lazy, unfit bastards that had no concept of working as a team - R'nya viewed it as a personal challenge. His Weyrleader had decided he was the person to bring these men and women into shape, into line, and prepare them for the task of fighting Thread. And R'nya would be damned if he wouldn't meet his Weyrleader's expectations.

Lowering his glass, R'nya met D'ren's gaze without flinching, his expression still holding a very subtle trace of his amusement. "Some of them will measure up, in time." A few rare ones weren't all that far off, if he were honest but he didn't want to buff up egos in his wing so early on, particularly when he needed them to learn to work together. One man's success was all their success. One's loss, was all their loss. He honestly didn't feel the selfish riders he'd been burdened with had any idea how to work together. They were too busy putting themselves into self-assigned cliques and colourist groupings. They needed to learn the simply fact R'nya had learned: Every colour had their place, and a greenrider's place was not always to be under a heavy handed fist (or other bodily parts).

"A couple I have no hope for." Harsh, perhaps, but some of those riders had done very little to lift his spirits or bring him any faith in their ability to fight thread. They were unfit, untrained, untried and disrespectful. He had no idea if he'd even be able to get them to a level he considered worthy of sitting on a dragon, let alone fighting against Thread. How had half these men even graduated?!

D'ren sipped his wine and listened quietly as R'nya spoke. R'nya was a quiet man who spoke slowly and calmly, which might have rankled less patient men, but D'ren was all for a slow, deliberate conversation. It was a quiet evening with few distractions. What a rarity, in D'ren's world! A pleasantly paced conversation with a like-minded bronzerider was D'ren's idea of a good time these days, even if the subject of conversation was quite serious. He was content to listen all night if he needed to.

"You're not the only one to make a report like that," D'ren said casually, waiting until R'nya got all his thoughts out before chiming in with his response. "My own wing is pretty out of shape as well." He stiffened just a little, an empathetic expression crossing his face. There was just a hint of unspoken frustration there, directed primarily at N'gelt. D'ren liked a lot of things about the man, but their leadership style wasn't very complimentary.

"Here's the thing, R'nya..." D'ren said after a long moment of thought. "I like you. You and I have a lot in common, and one of those things involves expectations." The bronzerider frowned a bit. "I have very high expectations of myself, and of others. So do you."

He took another sip, swishing it around in his mouth for a moment. It was dry. "But sometimes, with things like this, you have to be patient. These men have been without structured wing exercises for fifteen turns. Of course the first practice was a disaster." He chuckled a little bit, managing to grasp a moment of lightheartedness in spite of all the recent stress.  "Mine was like threadfall. Greenriders getting harassed, a bronze showing off, someone trying to trip someone else. None of that is okay, but it's like the first days of weyrling lessons. They're out of practice and have no bonds between them as a group...they need time."

He took a modest bite of his meal. He had a horrible tendency to overeat, especially while stressed, but having company put him on his best behavior regarding that particular habit. "Everyone is out of shape and to be honest, most of the leaders are untested. If it makes you feel any better, you've gotten more positive comments than negative...which is more than I can say for most of the untested wingleaders." They weren't all positive, but it was over 50%. That was good!

D'ren rested his chin on his hand. "There's a lot of work to do," he agreed sagely, tired but content. It was nice not to have the baby, or someone shoving charts in his face. "But here's the thing...This place is still rife with divisions, R'nya. That's one of the reasons I wanted to do this. To remind them that we are all dragonriders. They aren't going to get it just because a couple bronzeriders told them to, though. Keep a steady hand and they will learn in time. I'm not telling you to coddle them, but fifteen turns is a lot to undo in one afternoon."

He smiled and gave R'nya a playful wink. "I'm pretty sure you can take care of it. Though, I did hear some troubling things about T'shiro."

D'ren's expression hardened. "I know a contrasting...presence can be good sometimes," he said. He'd certainly used S'kef to 'motivate' people. "But from what I hear, T'shiro tried a bit too hard right out of the gate."

R'nya listened with the same respectful silence that D'ren had just shown him, pale eyes quietly focused on the Weyrleader without actually staring at the man. He was listening, attentively, though his expression was mild and gave little away of what was going inside his over active mind. The bronzerider was not surprised to hear that the Weyrleader had been receiving the same reports from the other Wingleaders.

R'nya almost frowned as D'ren chuckled, watching the Weyrleader with a slight drawing together of his brows as the other man took up speaking once more. The evaluation of his wing was little different, and R'nya nodded slightly at D'ren's explanation. He wasn't surprised that his fellows were having to deal with the same colourist and sexist nature of their Weyr. It was annoying, but not unexpected. R'nya gently placed his glass onto the table top, and shifted his gaze to watch the liquid swirl itself from the gentle motion.

D'ren's comment about about feed back on himself actually garnered a response from the young man, an eyebrow arching and startled grey eyes shifting to look at D'ren in mild amusement. R'nya was not one to set much weight on the opinion of others; they could change so swiftly and so easily. Why work himself up because someone did or did not like him? Better that they all understand the simplest of rules: Hierarchy. Do that which your superiors require, and do so with the proper respect and everyone would get along well. That wasn't to say he was displeased to be made aware that most of the feedback the Weyrleader had gotten about him was positive, that was very nice. But he wasn't overly concerned about it.

R'nya leaned back against his chair, posture as politically correct as always while D'ren brought up T'shiro. The bronzerider's opinion of his Wingsecond was still being decided upon, the man as yet unwilling to judge him too harshly, though he knew for a fact that many of his wingriders were less than pleased with the Second. "It is to be expected," R'nya said mildly, raising his glass once more to take a sip of the alcohol within. His stomach was empty, and he had no plans to eat until eh was finished his chat with the Weyrleader, so he expressed caution and restraint with the drink.

"You gave us some men who are both older and more experienced, as well as past occupants of various ranks. I am unsurprised by his desire to make sure they bowed down to him. Disappointed, but unsurprised." The bronzerider gave D'ren a mildly flat look. "I do not expect them to conform over night, Sir. I simply wished to inform you that there are a few for whom I do not believe conforming will be possible." He was going to keep the identities of the trouble makers to himself for the time being: he knew from his own experiences that there were ears everywhere and he had no wish to have them make life that much more difficult - both for themselves, and for everyone else.

"But we shall see. Perhaps they will prove me wrong." The bronzerider almost smiled, looking just mildly amused at the prospect. He would like them to prove him wrong. He just didn't think it would happen. Ever.

D'ren's smile widened. "You'd be surprised at how well people can clean up," he remarked, thinking of his own pitiful showings back at home. He'd never made it past wingsecond, and only briefly at that. In fact, if the bronzerider took long enough to think about it, he'd realize a troubling parallel between himself and those he'd discarded for misdeeds throughout the turns. D'ren and Ronarth had been sentenced to lifelong obscurity because of one mistake, and a mistake made during weyrling training at that. One mistake had been enough to ruin their careers.

The thought didn't cross his mind, though. Perhaps he regarded himself differently because he'd taken care to never make another mistake. That wasn't something he could claim anymore, though. His mistakes as Weyrleader were constant, and while he couldn't discard himself, he could constantly judge himself.

"People don't regard themselves as a team in a day. I know you don't expect that of them. But you should encourage them as much as you scold them. That's something I suppose your wingsecond is missing," D'ren said. "I know strictness has it's place. Wing practice isn't all fun and games, but I don't believe right now is the time for an authoritarian hand. Not after a 15 turn pause. " He frowned a little bit. As usual, he hoped he was making the right call, but his expression didn't betray quite enough to broadcast his insecurity.

"They're already unhappy enough. But also lazy and out of practice..I'm personally going halfway with mine. They need a firm hand, but their merits cannot be overlooked, either. Firmness isn't an all or nothing game, and each rider and each wing are different."

He finished off his wine. "I'm glad to see you showing concern, though. Most of the others have only complained to me, and most of them have shown nothing but contempt for their wings. People don't realize that leadership is a two way street. It's a responsibility, and they owe it to their riders t-"

He realized self-consciously that he was going on one of his tangents. R'nya wasn't there to hear a political speech. D'ren felt himself blush and laughed it off, a testament to what a good mood he was actually in. "I apologize, R'nya. You realize all of that already, I'm sure. I guess I'm just a babbling old man," he said, chiding himself lightly, albeit playfully.

He really was in a good humor. He rarely had any time to himself, or any time to converse with people he would consider peers. He enjoyed the thoughtfulness of R'nya's comments, so different from the raging complaints from the other, less patient wingleaders. The current arrangements might not be permanent, but so far R'nya was doing more to preserve his own position than he knew.

"I'm sure you'll find something that words for you boys," he said with a wink. "So tell me...do you have anything else interesting to report?"

R'nya's stiff posture leant back just slightly, the only visible sign of any state of relaxation as the bronzerider watched his Weyrleader with an internal amusement though it made no claim upon his features; even his lightly coloured gaze was without any particular sparkle that would indicate his train of thought. A slight twitch collected R'nya's eyebrows for a moment, though it was gone almost as fast as it had appeared.

The sparkle finally appeared in his eyes as D'ren pulled himself up mid sentence and blushed with a laugh. The younger man allowed a small smile to curl up one corner of his lips, raising his glass slowly to hide the expression as he sipped lightly at the liquid. "On the contrary," R'nya stated mildly, the amusement not quite hidden as it leaked into his voice. He wasn't laughing at the Weyrleader, but he found his antics worthy of the emotion and was having trouble smothering it down - a testament of exactly how amused by D'ren he currently was. R'nya was a master of his own emotions, or rather, simply not sharing them. "Fun and games is exactly what I have planned for them." The light gaze turned slightly sly as R'nya lowered his glass.

"Weyrling based activities, actually. As you said, they are as much a team as the newly Impressed. Weyrling team activities are generally good natured and their riders-to-be are hardly in desired shape," R'nya shrugged slightly, realising he was babbling himself now. "I expect many of them will find it demeaning," he was unsure if he should be amused or concerned that he could name several of those individuals before they even got a wiff of what he had planned, "but it works on weyrlings, and no one has more to learn than the Newly Impressed."

While R'nya planned to use some of the more traditional weyrling activities to train his wing back up to standard and get them to work together as a team with a little more enthusiasm than their first practice had brought about, he mostly planned to bastardise the activities. These men knew what was needed of them; they just required assistance with remembering how to do it. R'nya would like to see anything do that faster than demotion to weyrling status during wing practice.

Realising he still hadn't answered D'ren's final question, R'nya considered it for a moment, thinking over his wing and the interactions he had viewed for the short time they had all been collected together.

"Not currently, Sir. I will be calling them in for Assessment later in the month." R'nya swirled his glass lightly, watching the liquid make its rounds before returning his gaze to D'ren's face, meeting his Weyrleader's eye mildly. "I plan to meet with the young Master Healer tomorrow - I know a few of my riders have been in his care for various reasons." And he wanted to find out why, so he could avoid putting them back there. "In the meant time, I plan to let them over think." Perhaps that was mean, but R'nya could cope with that. They needed time to think on what he had said during their wing practice, and what he would say during their Assessment sessions. After that, well, "Regular wing practice will build up slowly. I have little desire to give them heart attacks." R'nya failed to smile, but his eyes sparkled mischievously as he tossed a subtle wink at D'ren that could easily be missed by a casual observer, or even the Weyrleader himself.

D'ren lifted a brow, listening carefully to R'nya's subtle but confident proposal, and couldn't help but smile again. "Well, I didn't say there wasn't room for any fun and games," he commented, both amused and highly impressed by the idea. "You know, you may have really hit on something, R'nya...it's been all gloom and doom lately. Everyone is at each other's throats. Perhaps something practical that's disguised as a game will help spark their enthusiasm a bit more."

It really was a fine idea. Of course, D'ren's own wing was heavy on bronzes and browns, generally lacking in any sense of humor or fun. D'ren always had admired the spirited little chromatics, who he figured would be far more receptive to 'weyrling' type exercises. Of course, this sentiment may have been a dash of colorism, albeit well-meaning and unintentional. He had a hard time taking green and blueriders seriously sometimes, but maybe it was just because he was so sharding sick of taking everyone else so seriously. He saw what he wanted to when he looked to them; people who were every bit as much the dragonrider as he was, but so much more free to do as they pleased and express themselves honestly.

Of course, they certainly had their own unique brand of hardships to face.

"I like it," he confirmed at length, as if he actually had to for a clever fellow like R'nya to pick up on his approval. "I would do something similar myself, but I'm afraid my riders are all sharding boring. You have a colorful group; I'd have wanted B'jin myself, but I had to pass on him for several reasons." Disappointment factored in a small bit, but it had more to do with the brown-heavy nature of his own wing. B'jin seemed so flighty around them! "But he has a couple friends in the wing, so I'm certain he's fine. I used to see him and S'kef chatting so amiably when they ran into each other at my hut sometimes..."

If only he knew. Not that he ever would, though. B'jin would never keep something so horrible from him!

"They do not really know to expect anything different," R'nya replied quietly, not bothering to broaden upon the simple statement. The Weyrleader was a smart man, and he would know what it was the younger bronzerider was angling at; even the high and happy events were tarnished by bloodbaths and death. Hatchings full of maulings, Renewed Hope more like Crushing Hope with the number of youngsters that were lost before graduation. Nirinath flying erratically, and the young gold gorging and barely managing a handful of eggs. Gathers and events boiling down to brawls and scandals. Leaning back almost casually in his seat, R'nya decided fun and games, was exactly what his would-be wing needed. They were used to all the wrong kinds of fun. Clean fun would be very good for them.

"Do it anyway," R'nya said mildly, the words carrying a very subtle indication that he was being sly. D'ren was the Weyrleader, he could boss his wing around as he saw fit. Of course, making a bunch of bronze and brownriders dance around like children would probably only convince them that their Weyrleader was off his tree. But it would encourage the other Wingleaders to do the same, and if everyone was being forced into such an indiginity, than they could all tell them to shut up. Not that it really mattered, R'nya planned to use his method regardless, but the Weyrleader would get less whining wingriders knocking on his door if he did it too. R'nya's lip twitched in his amusement, but he said nothing more. It was not his place to tell the Weyrleader what to do or how to do it, and he'd already stated he thought the other man should anyway. Besides, the Weyrleader's wing was liable to have an ego simply being in the Weyrleader's wing.

"I had wandered about that, Sir," R'nya admitted, leaning forward enough to place his wineglass lightly upon the table top. His pale gaze met his Weyrleader's without blinking for a moment. He had been curious as to the allocation of several of the men and women throughout the various wings, and why they had been placed where they had. In the end, the young man had decided that the Weyrleader had placed - not so much spies, as informatives - throughout the wings to report back their opinions on the way said wings were being lead, with less bias in their reports than the general members or even the Seconds. At any rate, R'nya didn't feel he had anything to hide, and was unconcerned about any 'spies' within his wing.

"I do not think they even acknowledged one another," R'nya said mildly, thinking back to the day of wing practice with a thoughtful not-quite-frown. "They were pretty wrapped up in their mates." Like D'ren, R'nya was not against the couplings of men, and while he'd had the incredible bad luck to find his bronze win the very rare green that was male ridden, the man did not linger on the details, or in the room. Xyreith was a generally agreeable dragon, however, and had the good taste to only chase female ridden more often than not. It wasn't quite as terrible an indignity. Apologies, Sir Xyreith said mildly, amused. R'nya ignored him.

R'nya was right. D'ren had noticed it as well; the tensions in their little Weyr seemed to grow day by day, and even joyous occasions were rarely anything to celebrate. New Turn's Eve had been particularly bad this year, with a huge brawl erupting and several men winding up in the infirmary. The young gold's first flight hadn't ended any better, with an unpopular clutchfather, untested goldrider and a small clutch on top of it. D'ren hoped against hope that the hatching would at least turn out well, but he wasn't willing to devote much of his strained optimism for that just yet.

"I think I will," he said, nodding slowly. He half-smiled, amused by also thoughtful. "Getting a bunch of boring bronzeriders to do anything more than stand there like statues is a tall order!" he said, masking his sudden concern with a touch of lightheartedness. It wasn't urgent concern, but it was something to mull over when he went back to his hut. "It doesn't help that most of them are sore with me for passing over them for Wingleaders or Weyrsecond. They'll have their chance, though." He expected the dragon population would grow more quickly with the new gold, which would hopefully allow the numbers of blues and greens to swell. The wings would expand, and then the unchosen bronzeriders would have their chance.


Well, most of them. Not M'bal, or anyone else on D'ren's list.


"I think I can come up with something. I certainly wish you the best of luck with your boys." He raised a brow at the mention of S'kef, B'jin, and their mates. "You know, both pairs seemed downright horrified when  I mentioned them in my speech. I can't imagine why, though. They all seem to fit together so naturally," he commented. "S'kef in particular is very touchy about the subject, though. He never did appreciate me making comments about it, even though he and J'ver are always, always together." He paused, musing over the mild gossip for a couple seconds. "And I don't even know about B'jin and R'nd. But I suppose I'm prying, aren't I? It's their business, not mine."

He looked down at his near-empty plate.  He took another bite or two, almost self-conscious. "Ronarth has really enjoyed getting out again, though. I think most of the dragons are. The riders will soon follow. I really think this is the right thing to do for them..."

R'nya raised his right hand and scratched lightly at his cheek, a small narrowing of his eyes the only outward indication of his otherwise thoughtful consideration to the things his Weyrleader had just said. He wasn't surprised to learn that the other man's wing was full of sour riders, but it was also unfair and disrespectful of the men in question to give their Weyrleader attitude. R'nya lowered his hand and picked up his glass once more, watching the liquid tilt before lifting his gaze to meet D'ren's once more. "We barely top two hundred riders, Sir," R'nya said quietly, thoughtful and dignified. What were the riders expecting? To all receive their own wing? Whom would they lead? Xyreith asked rhetorically, highly amused as he helped himself to commenting on R'nya's thoughts. Three greens and a blue? Xyreith snorted softly in the back of his mind. "There can only be so many wings."

"I noticed," R'nya returned mildly. He was one to notice a lot of things, especially at times when people were not noticing him. The young Wingleader had been in his usual place at one of the Weyrleader's announcements: close enough to hear what needed to be heard, and far enough away to be overlooked or simply remain unseen. If nothing else, R'nya could appreciate the stir Weyrleader D'ren had caused by assigning him as a Wingleader. It had pleased the young man as much as it amused him to discover just how unknown he was within the Weyr. After, of course, he had gotten over the shock of the Weyrleader picking him out. He had never done anything particularly note worthy in his life, and did not consider himself someone that would be considered. Oddly, he didn't realise that that in itself was likely the reason the Weyrleader had chosen him and many of his fellows. A lack of demanding the lime light - either through arrogance or ignorance - was something he had in common with many of his fellow Wingleaders, though he had, in an odd display of ignorance, not noticed that particular fact presently.

"Embarrassment, most likely, Sir. They are both private men." Neither had made much show of their relationships prior to the Announcement, and neither had they claimed to be mates to R'nya's knowledge since. Neither pair denied it, but he had yet to hear - in person, or on the grape vine - any of the four men confirm in their own words and voice that their mated status was more than Weyr gossip. The fact that everyone else could see it was rather irrelevant, obviously. "Yes and no," R'nya murmured thoughtfully. As their Wingleader, R'nya felt it was his right and a priority to be aware of the relationships within the wing, and the current standings of all the couples. If they were having personal issues, he felt he needed to know - it was liable to affect the quality of the Wing's workout, and he didn't wish to have squabbling or cat fights causing interruptions. It was also why he had a solid list of when the greens' flew when on his desk, and who flew each most regularly. He didn't need proddy greens disrupting Practice any more than required, and mated pairs were easier to dismiss for the day to the other side of the Lake than to have them causing issues in his wing continually.

R'nya nodded slightly, "It is," he agreed, though he had his own views on some of his dragons, too. The little green belonging to B'jin was a particular worry, with her unorthodox method of taking off by using between to get up and into the air. From what he had seen of her the day of Practice, she was a well proportioned albeit little dragon. There was no need for her to be so... dangerously lazy and he had no idea why she was so intent upon her method. Thinking back, he could rarely recall the mossy coloured dragon taking off traditionally. Obviously, he would need to quiz her rider on what was going on there. "Xyreith enjoyed it, too." Of course, his bronze enjoyed it because he got to be a bossy bastard to the less worthy colours; R'nya's lips pursed subtly at his dragon's colourist nature, but he didn't comment on it. "I fully expect that you will see a notable improvement in the Weyr at large before the Turn is done." Though that might be pushing it, with the turn half gone. Well, improvement was improvement, and even if the only improvement they were seeing was more eating and sleeping and less fighting, than it was still a positive result.

Embarrassed? D'ren couldn't quite get over that. "Why the shards would they be embarrassed?" he wondered out loud. He chewed on the thought for a moment. Both seemed to flow together so naturally, but when he paused to consider it, D'ren could indeed see little hangups that undoubtedly stood in the way of any public acknowledgement. "B'jin is awfully conservative," D'ren said, choosing a word he himself would approve of rather than more common terms. 'Prudish' came to mind. D'ren was often accused of being prudish himself, but he saw nothing wrong with B'jin's policy of keeping his bedroom antics to himself. B'jin was extraordinarily tight-lipped even concerning flights, which most greenriders babbled about as freely as women babbled about their -

Oh Faranth, what a horrible thought. Moving on!

D'ren's mouth twitched. "S'kef used to take grave offense to anyone suggesting that he had anything to do with other men," he said. D'ren wasn't one for gossip, but since R'nya considered it valuable intelligence, D'ren saw no harm in contributing to the man's knowledge. "He used to get quite ruffled over it, but he's excellent at hiding such things." The comment was very pointed, intended as a warning. D'ren had considered keeping the brownrider in his own wing to keep an eye on him, but honestly it sickened D'ren to so much as look at him. "I suppose something changed his mind, though. I know for a fact that he'll defend J'ver viciously if he feels he needs to."

J'ver...now that might have been the most dangerous one of them all. "Don't trust that greenrider, R'nya," D'ren said, suddenly appearing quite paranoid. He was, and by his estimation, he had excellent reasons.

R'nya didn't respond at D'ren's question, instead he simply watched silently as the Weyrleader considered it all very thoughtfully, the younger bronzerider mildly though invisibly amused. The Weyrleader's conclusion was met with a subtle nod, though it was one of neither agreement nor disagreement, simply an acknowledgement of the conclusion the other man had drawn. Like the Weyrleader, R'nya was someone that could easily be considered prudish, though he had the added benefit of having been out of the spotlight for the past decade. That wasn't a luxury he would be able to claim much longer, but the bronzerider wasn't thinking about that or what the wing he had been assigned may make of his lack of sexual appetite.

The Weyrleader's rather pointed and sharp warning about his ex second had one of R'nya's eyebrows arching just slightly; a subtle but visible indication of his surprise at the way in which the Weyrleader had spoken. IT wasn't that R'nya didn't consider the warning useful or that he was unthankful for it, so much as he considered it a little unexpected. As his upraised eyebrow slowly lowered, R'nya followed through with a small jerk of his chin, acknowledging the warning and letting the Weyrleader see he had done so with a small nod.

It was expected for a weyrmate to protect their partner, and it was not at all unusual for those of the male dragons to stand up for their usually more delicate female riding partner. R'nya was not at all surprised to hear that S'kef would spring to his mate's defence if required - or not required - and expected there would be no less response from any of the other mated pairs. Considering the number of pairs he had within his wing, the bronzerider was more worried about catfights from proddy greenriders and jealous blues and browns hissing over their shoulders at each other.

"Trust is earned." R'nya stated simply, when warned against J'ver. All of his riders were given a rudamentry level of trust, which was the type that required building upon of they wanted to get anywhere in his wing, if they wanted leeway or actual respect. He was prepared to trust them to care for their dragons but it was apparent he couldn't even trust the majority of them to show up on time, much less keep his - or one another's - back free of knives.

While R'nya was mildly curious as to what it was the greenrider in question had done to spark the Weyrleader's wariness, the young man didn't push or question, instead he simply looked thoughtfully into his wine glass. He already had some idea of whom in his wing would be definite trouble makers. J'ver hadn't been on that list, though he knew the greenrider could be particularly catty. He would keep an eye on him, to be safe, though. It was better to be prepared than to wake up with regrets.

"I will be cautious." An eyebrow arched up again, an indicator that R'nya meant that statement to cover all the particular members of his wing, not just those that D'ren had pointed out. He was not going to single out someone on the Weyrleader's say so; that would create a bias, not remove it. Instead, he would simply keep a harder eye on the lot of them.

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[sup]Sorry. R'nya had nothing more to add but didn't want to dismiss himself >_>[/sup]