Since you're here...(ATTN: new arrivals from Eastern)

"I understand," she said, empathy in her voice, "No one asked for this, or could possibly have deserved what happened. Know that I mean that, no matter how our parting from Eastern happened." Sidran deeply approved of his last comment, but as he blushed she chose not to call attention to it. Instead she gave subtle assurance that he and his fellows would be treated fairly - that, and more warmth than she'd shown in conversations so far.

"Sit, please. You and Manticath are newly graduated, but I imagine you have a handle of his strengths and development needs in the air. Tell me what you think, and as you're the first of your class I've spoken with, perhaps you can give me your take on their skills, as well."

Helpful, also, in gauging any emerging talent he had for 'seconding or 'leading. Somehow she had a feeling it wouldn't be nearly as long as it might have been, once. Not tomorrow, not this turn, but all the same.

Z'ash nodded his agreement and sat as Sidran bade him. He listened, leaning forward to attend upon her words and considered all he heard. He was quiet for a moment and then, folded his hands upon the table.

"Manticath is a large bronze, well favored by Maraxith's and Parazath's bloodline. They made many fine dragons between them. Manticath shows signs of being exceptional in both strength and endurance but I believe his overall speed will be poor because of his girth. He is eager and....well Weyrleader I have myself a very confidant and somewhat arrogant dragon in many respects. He has always been my very good friend and confidant, always encouraging me but sometimes he suffers from a lack of humility. I endeavor to keep him in a respectful frame of mine but sometimes, it is like squeezing blood from a stone. He has a stubborn streak but I haven't, I believe, spoiled him." Z'ash said. It was the truth as objectively as he could considering it was his dear bronze.

"As for the others....well, my class was the last of Parazath. I feel like that has made us all want to try harder. I think...R'fariel wants to prove himself. I think he experiences a lot of pressure with his cousin being a Wingleader. L'thyr and I get on well, always have. I think we have alot in common and we some of the youngest, if not the youngest riders in the class. V'tayn....he needs guidance. He is wild and careless. I worry about him. Anarath has a strong Search talent and she.....well she deserves a rider who can control himself. Kyabree faces a lot of stigma from her family, Sh'lor makes no secret of his prejudice for the New Guard." Z'ash said.

'Not that he wasn't pleased to have Imioth try for Anarath.' Z'ash thought to himself but did not say.

"I'm afraid I didn't get to know everyone very well before Eastern exiled the New Guard but...I will rectify that when and where I can, Weyrleader." Z'ash said.

She chuckled, low in her throat. "Z'ash, I could hardly judge you or Manticath for his arrogance, given my own partner. And as long as he can justify it with his skills in the air - as it sounds like he will - I shall have no cause to think differently. As for the rest," she looked up, having jotted notes as he spoke, "I have had a chance to see several of your classmates over the months we've been here, and am interested to see the rest now."

His notes were interesting, and the fact that he thought she meant the cobalt- and scarlet- and quartz- riders. "You'll likely have plenty of chance to get to know both your former classmates and the rest, given how few of us there are." Frank, that, not pretending to soften the blow and certainly not gloating about it. Who could?

"What else might you need to settle in, before wing practice starts?"

Z'ash visibly relaxed when Sidran laughed. He raked his hair back from his face and shrugged his shoulders with a small grin.

"I think I must speak with Weyrling Master Ashrah before long. She....she's my mother." he said.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and flicked his brown eyed gaze to the floor before voicing another question.

"In your experience, Weyrleader, are Bronzes and Cobalts so different? Some people call Cobalts the 'Bronze of the New Age'." Z'ash asked.

She frowned then, slightly and briefly, but for sure a frown. Not because of his mother - she'd known that, and was glad of it, hoping it meant he'd be more open-minded - but 'new age?' Why must people insist on this, new guard and old guard, traditional and mutant, new age to old.

So far, new age meant barely three wings of dragons and a planet to figure out, but that was beside the current point. "Do they?" she asked, a bit musing. "I haven't had a bronze in my head, so I am no more an expert than you," she took a moment to be glad Gaveth had finally fallen asleep, so that he wasn't asserting his opinion - or worse, turning his focus to Manticath, which would likely go poorly for all of them - and then continued, "but as far as I can tell they are similar in that they are dominant, and strive to be the best. Cobalts are aggressive and single-minded, and I imagine many bronzes can be so as well. In the end they are all dragons, and as we have more and more cobalts, we'll see a variety there as we do with bronzes," even Sidran could bring herself to put that in the past tense, "and the sooner we can all agree that everyone has something important to contribute, the better off we'll be."

It was, almost entirely, how she felt. Some more nuance in there, perhaps, but that wasn't for mess hall conversation with someone she'd just met.

Z'ash nodded, a serious look crossing his young face and making him look a little older by the deep furrow of his brow.

"The sooner we can all agree." he repeated, nodding his head. "I'm young, Weyrleader but I hope that will not deter you from calling upon me or Manticath, should you have need of us."

After a moment or two, he added. "Is there anything else I can answer for you?"

"You have given me everything I need, bronzerider. And I thank you for your time. Take what rest you can, and we'll plan to begin wing practices in two days."

Sidran gave him another small smile, and took a last few notes.

*
Gwin rushed into the mess hall, her dark hair messily tied up, her greenish-blue eyes wide and semi-panicked. Laying eyes on a knot of familiar riders (familiar in that they'd all arrived to this place together more than that she knew them well), she hurried over, somewhat breathless. "Did I miss it? Are you all done? I got lost, and Beniath needed me, and -" she looked further, and saw the imposing woman-Weyrleader talking to Z'ash, and relaxed slightly. If her classmate was there, surely she hadn't missed it. She couldn't picture Z'ash having been late for anything, so she must be safe.

Catching her breath, she refocused on the other - older, more experienced - riders and swallowed. "Sorry," she said hastily, warm brown skin flushing, eyes still wide and concerned.

Z'ash smiled back and bowing lightly at the waist when he stood, he turned and walked back to the group. It was just in time to see Gwin join them. He wondered were the other's of his class were and when they would be around.

"Hi Gwin." Z'ash said, smiling a little at her. Sometimes, he got shy. "Do you want to go next? Or maybe you, Anjelie? T'kal?"

"I'd like to go last, if it is all the same." T'kal said.

"Oh no," Gwin's eyes got even bigger, somehow, and she waved her hands in front of her. "I just got here, and you were here first. Please, bluerider Anjelie, if you want." She smiled hesitantly at T'kal, not even noticing that she'd drifted a bit to stand closer to Z'ash.

Not that she needed protection, or was trying to hide, but he was as familiar as anything was, in this place. "Was she nice?" she asked, hopeful. Cobaltriders, like cobalts, were something else again, but there were so few of any of them left, now. Surely everyone could get along now?

Anjelie nodded at the flustered greenrider and stood. She ensured that her tunic was straight and her hair neatly tucked behind her ears, and then she turned and walked over to where this Weyrleader Sidran waited. She stopped in front of the table and rendered a quick, proper salute.

"Wingleader Anjelie reports as ordered, si... ma'am," she said, stumbling a bit over the honorific at the end. The reporting statement had been taught to her as a weyrling, and it had never varied in its formula. One didn't use it for Weyrwomen, so the higher ranking individual had always been a man, before. Now, though... everything was different. Anjelie disliked different. It was hard to know what to do when situations changed.

So she stuck with what she knew. "My duty to Gaveth," she said. "I hope that he is well."

"Thank you, Anjelie, he is. Please sit. My duty to Spalkoth as well - do you both have everything you need to get as settled as possible?" Sidran knew better than to not use qualifiers. Most dragonriders would be sensible to know they couldn't possibly have everything they needed, based on everyone's circumstances, but better not to invite an unhelpful conversation if she could avoid it.

Anjelie settled into her seat, keeping her spine straight and proper. "We have been assigned a weyr of adequate size, though it requires some work to be perfectly comfortable. That will be an ongoing project, I imagine. I wanted to make inquiries about a dragonhealer. I know that the girl Kyabree studied a bit, and I will speak to her if she is who is available, but I think that Spalkoth may have sustained a minor wing strain. I will keep him grounded for the next few days to rest it," she said. She did her best to couch her statements in a pleasant tone, but the truth was what it was... and her weyr did need work. And Spalkoth's wing was strained. These were not pleasant things, but they needed to be reported.

Sidran's expression cooled, and she replied perfectly neutrally, "It would have been ideal if we had been allowed any dragonhealers when we were sent here, or you all had been able to bring some when you came here." Then she continued, the coolness in her face fading, tapping her stylus, "I imagine we'll be able to gather the best of them once they are done working with the last of the sick dragons, and I'm sure we can task someone to go find us some before we begin drilling with the combined wings. In the meantime, resting him sounds right - we'll need him soon enough."

"Speaking of, what are Spalkoth's strengths in the air, and what should we look at balancing out with other wingriders?"

Anjelie felt the old familiar frustration. Something had happened. Sidran's smile disappeared, and she looked almost angry. She, Anjelie, had said something wrong, again, and once again she'd angered someone because of it. Her mind reached out for her blue, but he was sleeping deeply. The plague had been hard on him, though he'd remained perfectly healthy. He'd picked up extra sweeps, and had worked himself to the bone. That was probably how the wing had become strained in the first place, come to think of it.

"Spalkoth isn't the strongest of blues, but he's nearly as fast as a green," she said, pushing on despite the knowledge that she'd, once again, put a foot wrong in a social sense. Thankfully, Spalkoth was always easy for her to discuss. "He doesn't have the stamina for a full Fall, but he can fly for three hours before he starts to flag. As far as I know, he has no Search talent, but then, I don't... didn't leave the Weyr that often, so I suppose it's possible."

"Fast, and half a Fall, excellent. We may need to test him for Search, but there will be time for that. In the meantime, rest him, do what you can to fix up your weyr while you're grounded, and you can expect a wing assignment in two days. I'll check in with you and Spalkoth before you begin drills though, to ensure he's recovered - it won't do us any good to rush him and hurt him further."

They were so few, but could hardly afford to be fewer. "Is there anything else you need in the meantime to settle?"

Anjelie shook her head. "No, Weyrleader," she said. Once again, she wondered if the woman across from her were expecting her to say something more, but once again, she wasn't sure. And in that lack of surety, she found it easier to say nothing at all, but rather to sit still and wait for the Weyrleader to speak again.

"Very well." She smiled again - Sidran's smiles in these conversations were overall small, and brief, but she was making an effort to put (at least most of) the newer riders at ease. "Then settle as best you can and let me know if Spalkoth's wing gets worse."

"Yes, Weyrleader," Anjelie said again. Once again, she wondered if there was something else she should do.

Sidran looked up, curious, and then smiled again - slightly more warmly. "Dismissed, bluerider."

She wasn't sure if the other woman was standing on ceremony or figuring out what to do, but either way the traditional words seemed a safe call.

Heat flooded Anjelie's pale face. Of course. How stupid of her. The Weyrleader had clearly been finished with her interview. Why had she not recognized it and left gracefully? Frustration bubbled up within her, mingling with the flush of mortification. She got to her feet, bumping the table in her haste, and nodded jerkily at Sidran

"Thank you, Weyrleader," Anjelie said, and then turned and half-fled out of there, back to the knot of riders that she at least knew, even if she wasn't 100% comfortable with them.

"I'm such an idiot," she said in an undertone as she approached Z'ash, shaking her head. "I'm hopeless when Spalkoth is asleep."

Z'ash turned to face the female bluerider, nodding in empathy. He too felt better when Manticath was awake and his natural confidence seem to spill over into his rider. It make Z'ash feel better, not as unsure and Manticath preened to know he had such a positive influence over the young boy.

"Don't be too hard on yourself. " he said to Anjelie. "I have those moments too."

Z'ash wondered where Misha and K'jal were and if they would ever appear.

Anjelie stared at the young man. "But you can't," she said softly. "You're a bronzerider... a leader! You have to know the unwritten rules, don't you? I should, I know that I should, but I just can't ever pick up on the cues that seem to tell everyone else so much. I need people to be explicit with me. Extremely explicit. Everything is so much better when everything is clear."

J'ril was not looking forward to this meeting, although that was putting it mildly.  He absolutely loathed the idea of working under any of the mutants, and here, both of this Weyr's-- if you could call it that-- leaders were riders of such.

Not that he should have expected it to be any different.  The mutant dragons and their riders had been sent away, after all, exiled from Eastern, with only their own kind to be in charge.  They hadn't had a choice, had been forced to rely on what they had.

Now, though, there were bronzeriders, and brownriders, even if there was no goldrider to serve as Weyrwoman.  One of them could be in charge.  One of them should be in charge.  So why, then, did he have to meet with the cobaltrider that had designated herself the Weyrleader?  Surely one of the bronzeriders would do the right thing and step up to take charge, to give this place the leadership it needed.

Of course, he wasn't entirely sure he trusted any of them to actually do it, given how much they seemed to like the blasted mutants.  Perhaps it would come down to someone else needing to take charge, regardless of the color of their dragon-- anything was better than a mutant, after all.

For now, though, he had to at least pretend he was going to go along with whatever Sidran had in mind for him.  He'd have avoided this meeting altogether if it hadn't been for the direct order to present himself, and he wasn't quite ready to start off on the wrong foot with the woman, much as it grated.  Because, for now, she was the Weyrleader, and until that changed he needed to fly under the radar.

-------

Several others were already in the Mess Hall, waiting their turn, when he arrived.  He wanted to ask if there was anything he should be on the lookout for, but those he saw close by were unlikely to sympathize with his feelings on the matter.  So, he remained quiet, observing, and growing more impatient with every moment that passed.

Gwin returned to the group from her meeting with the Weyrleader, eyes wide (nothing new there, really), and saw that a few other riders - mostly from older groups - had arrived. "Um. She's ready for whoever is next," she said, retreating slightly behind Z'ash again, because he was familiar, and everything around her felt far too much.

*
I'zak slapped J'ril on the shoulder as he walked up in time to hear. "Might as well. I'm gonna have some of this klah-and-whatever-they-make-here to get ready. Just in case she's feeling bitey after talking to you." He grinned his usual grin as he spoke, sardonic and knowing, figuring if someone was going to have to speak to the cobalt rider after J'ril (knowing his former classmate's preferences as he did), it might as well be him.

Narrowing his eyes at I'zak, J'ril jerked his shoulder away from the bronzerider's hand.  Friendly ribbing it might have seemed to others, but the brownrider knew better.

Still, he said not a word, instead straightening his posture and all but stalking towards the table where Sidran sat.  It took him a moment to get words past his tight throat once he reached her, struggling against the urge to clench his fists as he was.  But he finally ground out "Weyrleader," and even, somehow, managed the tiniest of nods.