Etiquette-Day One

Writers: Heather, Miriah
Date Posted: 4th February 2014

Characters: Saibra, J'ackt
Description: It is decided that Jenackt needs a few extra lessons in behavior
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 5, day 6 of Turn 7
Notes: Mentioned; N'vanik, Cyradis, Meledei

Saibra

J'ackt

Unlike many of his fellow candidates, Jenackt enjoyed the exercise
period of the day. He had heard many of them complain about the
candlemarks spent building strength and stamina, but Jenackt relished
the activity. While some exercised in pairs or groups, he kept to
himself, not wanting the distraction of chatter. At the end of the
candlemark he was usually sweaty but energized and in a far better
mood for the rest of the evening. Mornings with classes were simply
not his best time of the day and he'd never really liked the bitter
taste of klah that some used to perk themselves up.

Today, he had finished his run before the rest and sat by the lake
cooling off before a quick dip and dinner. He ran his hand over his
hair and stretched, rolling his shoulders. He'd have to find a knife
for his hair soon. The thick strands were hitting his brows again.

Saibra had been a little surprised when N'vanik had asked her to work
one-on-one with a Candidate who apparently needed some etiquette
lessons. All candidates went through general Weyr etiquette so this
lad must be in need of an extra dose. Luckily for this boy Saibra was
as by the rules as they came and had been instructed by some great
Weyrwomen.

**Where is he?**

It only took Chioneth a moment to respond, having asked a few of the
Weyr flits, }:Weyrlake.:{

**On my way **

Rising off of the rock, Jenackt bent to splash his face with water
enjoying the cool water against his skin. He debated skipping dinner;
he still had a black eye and a swollen lip and looking down at his
reflection, he winced at his appearance. He didn't like people looking
at him and going into the dining hall right now would result in just
that. He should just take a swim and head back to the barracks.

The crunch of footfalls against the sand caught his attention and he
tensed in a crouch. The fight had put him more on edge and defensive;
but a searching gaze later revealed only an approaching woman. He
turned back to the water and fingered the split lip.

Judging by the fat lip and black eye, Saibra knew that she had found
the young man in question. "Put your clothes on. Meet me in my office
in ten minutes." The orders came out in an easy, relaxed tone,
"Weyrwoman's Second," she inclined her head, "we'll get more formally
acquainted in my office." She spun on her heel and began walking back
the way she had came, "Don't be late."

His head whipped around to eye the woman, startled by the sudden
orders and his eyes narrowed in immediate obstinacy. "I need to bathe.
I'm sweaty."

The gold rider stopped in her tracks and regarded Jenackt coolly, her
steel blue eyes giving away nothing, "Then I suggest you hurry."
Saibra left on that note. **Chioneth, have the kitchens send up some
food to my office. Enough for two.**

**Now what?** He gave a muttered curse. **Do this. Do that. Hop on one
bloody foot when I tell you to. ** Scowling, he splashed water
hurriedly over himself, and shoved his arms into his shirt, his hair
in a disarray after he pulled it over his head.

Still damp, he stomped up to the office, his jaw set in stubborn
irritation as he rapped on the door.

"Come in." Saibra's voice rang out and when the candidate came through
her door she nearly laughed out loud. The boy's hair was practically
stranding on end and his clothes damp and mussed. And by his breathing
Saibra would wager that he was barely holding his temper in check,
"Have a seat." She indicated to the chair across the desk from where
she sat.

Still scowling, Jenackt moved to the seat and sat down across from
her. "What did I do this time?"

"The Weyrleader had asked me to give you a few lessons on ...
Etiquette." Saibra studied the young man before her, guessing him to
be around Saidrene's age or perhaps a couple of turns older. "I heard
you were in a fight..." She studied his blackened eye.

He stared at her for a long moment and blinked slowly. "Etiquette?"
His brows snapped down and he frowned even more deeply at the mention
of the fight. "Was just defending myself." He huffed slightly. "Was
told I could do that."

"Yes, you can defend yourself. Sometimes a little social etiquette and
tact can get you out of some sticky situations." The woman's voice
became a little more personal, "Although I am not certain that the
most gifted talker could have gotten you out of a fight with those
three young men."

"These etiquette lessons are not a direct result of the fight but an
overall observation of your behavior. The Weyrleader mentioned that
you had been without much social contact for a while. There are many
subtle social nuances to learn about life in the Weyr. Learning them
will make your life a lot easier. Especially if you Impress."

Saibra stood, "I had a drudge bring us up some dinner." She motioned
for him to follow as she led him to the conference room near her
office.

"Talk your way out?" His nose wrinkled at the thought. "Maybe that's
what women do, but..." He pushed his hand through his hair, mussing it
further, but revealing the clean, sharp lines of his features. "I
don't care about...nuances...or an easy life; there's no such thing.
Just want to be left alone."

The thought of dinner made him pause and as she walked away, he
exhaled and rose again to follow her. Couldn't she stay in one spot?
He walked into the conference room and stopped, gazing at the space.

"Have a seat and help yourself to whatever you would like." Saibra
said as she took her seat and did just that for herself. The drudge
that had brought up the food bad been generous and had even included
some sweet rolls and bubblies.

Watching her warily, he ignored the sweet rolls and bubblies, but
piled on the meats and fruits on his plate. He took the seat farthest
from her, tore a hunk of bread off and chewed, eyeing the woman.

Saibra had a healthy helping on her plate, which wasn't unusual for
the athletic goldrider, but she chewed silently while she regarded the
wary expression on the youth's face, "You have something you would
like to say?"

He swallowed slowly and put down his bread. "If I did I would say so."

"Let's go over a few things while we eat, shall we?" Saibra's voice
was light, but there was a hard edge to it that matched the flash of
steel in her eyes, "Consider this your first part of etiquette
training. Whenever you are addressing a senior dragonrider, especially
one of rank, your replies should always end in either ma'am or sir."

He took another bite of bread chewed and met her gaze with his good
eye. He swallowed and put down the bread. "Why?"

"Because you catch more flies with honey, and if you continue going
about with an attitude someone will knock you on your ass. It is
proper behavior to show due respect to those in authority, whether you
like them or not is not important." She could only imagine how D'hol
would handle insolence from someone like Jenackt.

His brow furrowed at her sudden sharpness. He had honestly wanted to
know why he had had to address them like that. He addressed N'vanik
and Cyradis by their titles, not the sir or ma'am bit. And Meledei
hadn't insisted on that rot either. And what did flies and honey have
to do with being polite? He put down his bread to stare at her. "Why
should I immediately show respect for someone just because by chance a
shiny dragon picked them? They didn't earn their position. The
weyrleader got picked because his dragon flew the gold, right? He
didn't do the work to earn that, his dragon did. And the goldrider
gets picked because her dragon rises first, right? So its nothing
earned there either. They fly Thread sure, but so do blues and greens
and browns. What makes a shiny hide better? And since that Search
dragon insists that I should stand, what makes them any better than
me?"

"It doesn't make them better than you. It's just politics." This she
said with a wave of her hand as she picked through one of the baskets
for a red fruit, "Weyrs, like Holds, are socially complex. Say the
wrong thing to the wrong person and you're mucking stalls or riding
sweeps for a month. You just have to learn how to read people. _That_
is why you learn etiquette. Until you know whether or not someone
wants to be more familiar with you, ma'am and sir are the safe ways to
go."

"What if you don't care either way?" And he didn't. He didn't care if
people liked him. He didn't care if this woman liked him or even if
N'vanik liked him. Politics was an abstract concept that he simply
didn't understand; they'd brushed over it in classes, but it was so
different from his cut and dried pragmatic view of the world that he
considered it beneath contempt.

Saibra raised her shoulders as she bit down into the red fruit. She
chewed and swallowed before answering, "That's your choice. But a
little bit of etiquette can make your life lot easier. People are more
apt to leave you alone if you keep your head down. Being different
raises eyebrows and draws more attention than I think you are looking
for."

He glowered down at his plate and his shoulders hunched. "Everyone
already knows I'm different. I don't care about being polite. I don't
care about politics. Just want to be left alone and got enough people
telling me what I should and shouldn't do. I didn't ask for any of
this."

"I know, "Saibra responded, her voice softer, "but human interaction
is an inevitable part of life."

He snorted. "For weyrfolk and holders maybe." He pushed at the piece
of bread on his plate, his appetite suddenly gone. It wasn't as if he
didn't like people, but his run in with the other candidates and the
mistrust that had been shown him (although he granted it was warranted in
some respects) hadn't given him a positive outlook on human
interaction. Most of his experience with other people had been less
than positive; the rare occasions where it had not been had been
confusing. He had been so used to being on his own, making his own
decisions and being responsible for his own survival that being thrust
into a place that he had so little control in his life had kept him in
a continuous spin. And now...now he had to learn to be nice and
polite, when all he wanted to do was to keep to himself.

His jaw set as he pushed his plate away, resentment that more lessons
were to be crammed into his head curdling into his stomach. "Fine.
Teach away...ma'am."

Saibra studied the young man. He really had the makings of a fine
dragonrider. It wasn't going to be easy though, smoothing out
Jenackt's rough edges would take work, but Saibra had never shied from
a challenge. **Day one.**

Last updated on the February 28th 2014

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Etiquette-Day One