[PRP] Pieces of Peace [Ielin + D’mon]

[Prism Shine]

Trepidation sang in Ielin’s blood, his nerves racing as he makes his way down the halls. Deep breath; in, out. He couldn’t exactly ignore the summons to the Weyrleader’s office, even if he’d rather go back to his chores, his carvings -- anything to keep the worry from surging, building. What had he done lately? Surely snapping at Dynzrak hadn’t amounted to anything noteworthy to get a summons, if Gr’del hadn’t even spoken to him. Nothing remarkable had come to mind either. He kept his head down, listened to his lessons -- he’d even tried his best to make more.. friends.

For a brief moment, the candidate recalls the tea party, when the rest of that island clutch had been brought to celebrate. He’d run into D’mon, hadn’t he..? It’s a memory he’d tried to forget. Not seeing the little dragons, of course. But running into the Weyrleader, the teasing from Dynzrak..

Perhaps the Weyr had been keen to cut their losses? Ielin isn’t entirely a boon. Sure, he does his work efficiently--and tries to help pick up the slack where he can without drawing an eye. But he can’t say that his social skills are much in the way that dull wherhide sparkles -- it doesn’t.

The analogy is so bad that Ielin almost laughs, scrubbing fingers through his hair to swipe it back, and over his face for good measure. There’s a moment where he touches the fresh scab on his cheek and withdraws his hands with a sharp hiss, teeth gritting as he’d brushed over the large scab that was down his cheek and into his jaw slightly. After the tea party, he’d been a touch more self conscious about his scruffy beard, knowing it needed tamed. Yet when he’d finally summoned the courage to use a straight-razor, it had ended rather badly. Waves had shaken and made the lowest sounds for the blood that Ielin had to mop up, as if he’d been the one wounded.

Speaking of the blue firelizard, the motion produces an offended whine from Waves, who was utterly feeding off of Ielin’s insecurities once more. The little blue flit had mostly tunnelled into his shirt, tail wound around his right forearm, hiding his little jeweled yellow eyes in the thick of his beard. He’d coiled himself around pretty well that he wasn’t slipping -- yet the baby firelizard-shaped lump in his sleeve shook every now and again. Almost shivering in anxiety, and with a gentle frown, Ielin slipped a hand over the warm shape of his little blue.

“Hey now, I got’cha.” His tone is low, but it gains Waves’ attention as he turns. “No matter what they do, I got you -- an’ you got me.” Lessons had always talked about projecting good thoughts to eggs on the sands, but did it work for firelizards? The candidate swallowed, trying to summon good thoughts to the front of his mind. Warmth, surely. Perhaps if there wasn’t a dragon waiting to take him back to Crom, they could go for a swim on their free time. The activity surely helped soothe nerves… The trembling lessened slightly, and Waves crawled out a bit more from his shirt, if to press under the edge of Ielin’s jaw and neck a bit more bodily.

If he was leaving the Weyr so soon, at least he had a firelizard, right?

Yet the door comes into view, and Ielin has to take a slow deep breath to shake the nerves trying to rise up once more. He could do this.. Surely. Fist raising, he knocked on the door--waiting until he’s bidden in to enter. “You.. wanted to see me?”

Uta

Nervous island is nervous

 

[Uta]

Prism Shine

The Weyrleader often forgot that a summons could often lead to insecurity or worry from beyond his door. Sometimes the lines blurred between D'mon the Weyrleader and D'mon the man, and often, it was hard to tell where one ended and one began. Thankfully, for Ielin, he was not being called in because he was in any sort of trouble.

No, this was not official business. This was something else entirely. Honestly, the man was a bit nervous. It had been some time since he'd done something like this; he had always been part of a big family, had always had brothers, sisters, and a healthy dose of children. It wasn't that he didn't already have children. He had many sons and daughters. Some were Candidates, some were riders and each one fairly independent. But this had surprised him... There was something about this one that had caught his eye during the Tea Feast, and after a talk with Y'mar, as well as Thirstreth, he decided to go all-in.

He was a busy man, after all; it wasn't like Ielin wouldn't have some time on his hands or wind up smothered. But even though he was older, D'mon thought he could at least offer him a little guidance. Or even just a little help, and security.

"Come on in," he drawled in his usual fashion. He looked up when Ielin entered, taking note of the young man and his appearance. Ah, now that was the Candidate he had taken a shining to earlier! The flit was noted, but otherwise ignored; flits were everywhere in the Weyr, and D'mon had no strong feeling about them. The fact that he'd impressed one was a good sign; it at least gave the promise of some sort of empathy. "Ielin, right?" He asked, wanting to make sure he was pronouncing the young man's name properly. "Take a seat and stay awhile," he encouraged, setting aside the Threadfall chart her was studying. "Before we start, do you need anything? Food? Drink?" He had wine, klah, water, and any edibles within the kitchens. In his immediate office, which had a private entrance to his personal weyr, he already had some snacks, some wine, and some cooling klah from earlier. The room itself was large, spacious, and full of charts, copies of records, books, maps, and other things D'mon and Y'mar needed to help run the Weyr. There were quills and bottles of ink of all color, as well as a few goblets strewn here and there from late nights. It wasn't quite cluttered, but it clearly was well stocked not just by D'mon, but by Weyrleaders from Turns past.