Peeking Out of the Shell

What she says.

2007-09-14T02:45:14Z

Who: Arekoth, H'kon, Miniyal, and Peloth
Where: Arekoth's ledge
When: Daytime on day 25, month 5, turn 4 of the 7th Pass. (Backdated)
What: It's not a good day for Miniyal. Peloth still wishes to visit with Arekoth. Who passes on news that makes it no longer a good day for Peloth.
Note: Aww. And, for a final scene I couldn't ask for more. Many hearts to H'kon for this. A sad ending is so very fitting for Miniyal.

9/13/2007

At High Reaches Weyr, it is afternoon on day 25, month 5, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.

It's not a good day for Miniyal today. Which means it's not a good day for Peloth either, but unlike her rider the gold doesn't let that stop her from doing things. Like visit her favorite brown to share a nice sunny spot. Being a nice guest Peloth sends a little mental nudge before she arrives on the ledge belonging to the brown. Of course she has to buzz the ledge first. He gets to see her streak straight up before coming to almost a full stop and then dropping straight down to hover on the ledge. << You have a good spot right now. Share? >> A formality. Like she doesn't know he won't share.

His rider relieved of duty (as per his request), Arekoth has nowhere particular to be today. Well-fed, freshly bathed and oiled, the brown is content enough to watch the world go by on the ledge, while offering the occasional word or two of advice to H'kon, who, in the weyr, is packing up those things that can yet be packed. The streak of a gold catches the brown's attention, and his head lifts. A rumbled admiration for the aerial moves comes along with his dragging himself a bit more to one side - careful of the foot. << Of course. You can even have the sunnier spot. >> The rider may have no sense of hosting, but here Arekoth distinguishes himself from H'kon once again.

Peloth's sense of being a good guest doesn't extend to leaving her rider behind. Which really only makes her flying that much more impressive. At least in her mind. <> And there is something of apology in her tone at having brought her along to begin with. For her part, Miniyal waits patiently for Peloth to land before climbing down less than gracefully. She lingers near the entrance to the weyr clearly not wanting to go inside. Still, she is out of the way as Peloth curls up in the sunnier spot after stretching her neck to headbutt the brown with affection.

Arekoth returns that headbutt - when can he not? - before getting himself settled once more. It takes three or four rounds of picking up the leg and putting it back down until he's satisfactorily comfortable, but with his friend on the ledge, the requirement seems more distraction than frustration. << You should stay at least a while. It's a perfect day for this ledge. >> After a while, H'kon does indeed surface, having been alerted to the presence of another biped. An innate will to bristle at someone being so close to his personal space isn't quite fought back, but he does manage a dip of his head, a greeting of, "Weyrling."

The settling of the leg is watched by Peloth and her rider. Once the leg is settled the gold whips her tail out to smack against Arekoth's. << It bothers you. That is not good. I am sorry. >> As best she can with the space given her tail swishes back and forth slowly. << We will stay awhile. I like this spot. >> Miniyal was, likely, hoping to not have to actually converse. Not spared that she just nods her head. "H'kon." He gets no title. Although she surely hasn't heard anything. Not the day after the transfer was requested. She also might have the faintest odor of wine about her.

Arekoth flicks out his own tail to offer Peloth a smack right back. Affectionate, entirely. << It's not so bad. I'm very strong. >> The rider is not in such a hurry to make any conversation. Miniyal is accorded a careful look, however (maybe the man has a good nose), before H'kon's attention goes to his dragon. An upward lift of his chin toward the fiery brown. And Arekoth gives Peloth's tail another thwack, emanating quite the sharp sadness. He's been reminded.

If he doesn't want to talk Miniyal will content herself with twisting her ring around on her finger and staring off at nothing at all. Peloth looks at the leg in question as her tail stops swishing briefly. Then it starts again. << You are strong. Stronger than a lot of the others. That is why I like you. >> She is content to rest comfortably with her friend until she picks up on the sadness. It must take her by enough surprise she shares it with her rider because Miniyal looks confused a moment and steals a glance at H'kon. Without speaking. << What is wrong? Did he do something to make you unhappy? We will tell him to stop. >>

H'kon presses his lips together, crossing his arms firmly over his chest. Arekoth, for his part, swivels his head to look at that young gold. << It's good you're here today. You get to see the ledge. >> Thwack. << We're going away. >> And it's at this point that H'kon tilts his face up just enough to shoot a quick and apologetic look to Miniyal, and promptly turns on his heel, and walks right back into the weyr.

He's allowed to go without a word. Miniyal's not in the mood to talk. She just slips a hand into her jacket and pulls out a flask to have a sip from it. This earns her a look from the gold, but only momentarily. She then is focused on the brown she lies beside. << Away? Who said you could leave? I did not say you could leave. Who will fly with me? No one else is as good. >> Swish goes the tail, not quite touching the brown. Like a cat lazily sunning herself she lets slow swishing be her only movement. Her own sadness comes in a gentle wave that is sure to reach every spot it can. << You will come back? >>

Arekoth hop-claws his way a bit closer to that sunnier spot. Or, more rightly, to the one occupying it. Wings give a quick rustle as they resettle. The injured leg, of course, takes a bit longer to arrange. << Of course! I made him promise. He says it won't be long. >> Oh, the returned sadness is felt. The brown droops physically, head bowing a little, wings flattening out. A dragon deflated.

Poor Peloth seems to be having as bad a day as her rider now. The two of them are perfect pictures of sadness and the fact they both are likely only makes it worse. << But you will come back. She will make sure he brings you back. >> Stretching her neck out she headbutts him again. << He has to listen to her. We are graduating soon. We will make people listen to us. You will come back because I want you here and I shall get what I want. >>

A little more cautious scrabbling, and Arekoth is able to stretch out his right limb until - if she doesn't back off, anyway - the tip of a talon can come in contact with the gold hide. << I'll come back because I want to. No one will be able to fly like you, so I'll have to come back. >>

Being upset like she is Peloth is not going to move away. Instead she stops swishing her tail after it rests against one of Arekoth's back legs. << None of them fly as well as I do. None of them hunt as well as I do. I am the best at everything. But it will not be the same without you. >>

<< I'm going to learn new tricks for flying. >> The promise doesn't carry quite as much reassurance as maybe it was meant to. And that fiery brown heaves a heavy, draconic sigh. It might be noticed that, now peeking out from the entrance of the weyr, the brownrider is frowning at the scene. Or it might not. Arekoth and Peloth's bubble of tristesse is probably quite scene-stealing.

He can spy in peace because when she's not sipping occasionally from her flask Miniyal is busy watching her dragon with a worried expression. << You cannot learn new tricks unless you will teach them to me. >> Peloth has a bit of bossiness about her, but she is a queen and likes to remind others of that when she feels it is necessary. Her tail starts to swish again slowly, some order potentially restored in the world. <>

Arekoth keeps his talon-toe right where it is, even as that tail starts moving. <> And there's the feeling of loss, bordering on empty. << Soon. I made him promise. >> H'kon, for his part, has managed to look away. And to Miniyal. The flask is distraction enough that the brownrider abandons any sympathetic frowning, instead springing into action, fast steps bringing him up to Miniyal, a fast hand grabbing that flask with only a little sloshing. And he - and the flask - step away for long enough that he can sniff at it. Checking the contents. Looking all furrow-browed and angry.

The contents of the flask smell alcoholic and fruity. It is, actually, a pear brandy. And losing it annoys Miniyal. Abandoning whatever misery she's been wandering around in all day she turns to glare at H'kon. "Give that back. What do you think you're doing? Give it back. Now." It is, perhaps, somewhat telling that she manages to sound in charge and not petulant when alcohol is involved. But the tone of command concerning the return of the flask is clear. << Oh. Oh, he should not have done that. Make him give it back. >> Pulled out of her own sadness Peloth stretches out again to headbutt the brown. << Please. He must not keep it. >>

"You should not be drinking this." The brownrider's nose has wrinkled, though likely not as a direct result of sniffing that brandy. And then Arekoth is given a glance. The brown has raised his head, in response to Peloth's imploring. That flask is held halfway out. H'kon hasn't found a decision yet. << He won't keep it. He's worried. >>

"The weyrlingmaster has been saying for months it is fine. So, you have no right to take it. I want it back." Miniyal steps closer and reaches for the flask. H'kon is lucky she's not the violent sort at this point or he'd likely be ducking a punch. As it is she just is going to get her drink back. << If I did not want her to have it she would not. >> Peloth still sounds worried. Worried and sad and it's a jumble underneath, but not interfering with her silvery cool voice. << Today. Today she needs it. He has no right to worry. He is leaving. >> A little harsh now, but Peloth is not happy with the man taking her friend away. << He must give it back. You do not understand. >>

H'kon's brow-furrow loses some of its edge, and he looks again to the dragon. And back to Miniyal. Who will be allowed to take hold of the flask, though H'kon isn't yet ready to release it into her full custody. "You... should try to take better care of yourself." Unnatural sounding, at the very best. << He will give it back. >>

Miniyal's eyes narrow as she watches the flask not being released. Her smile is wry and her tone sarcastic as she says, "Gosh, if you wanted to hold my hand you could have just asked." Maybe that will get him to let go. << It was their day. Today. It would have been. Or it is because it was. I am not quite sure. But she is sad. I cannot make her happy so I must be sure no one makes her sadder. Not today. >> Peloth sometimes shares more than her rider might like, but that doesn't stop her. It's for her own good after all. <> Not an apology because she would never apologise for bringing her rider somewhere, but a simple statement of fact.

H'kon tilts his head down just a little, a skeptical glance sent to Miniyal as a response to that comment. "You should take better care of yourself," is repeated softly. And that flask is indeed released. And H'kon shakes his head, and stuffs his hands into his pockets, and goes to lean in the entryway of his weyr. Well then. Arekoth stays a bit more alert, head held high for now. <>

<< No one understands her. Just me. But, she does not need anyone else so that is fine. >> Peloth remains as she is with her tail swishing. Not a care in the world. Not that she'll share with just anyone. Miniyal, once she has the flask back, takes a drink before putting into one of her pockets. "Not that it's any of your damned business, but it's our anniversary. If I'm not entitled to be a little drunk on the day that will remind me as long as I live that I've lost the man I love then what's the point in ever being drunk?" It is a valid question of sorts. Peloth gradually shifts herself to be that much closer to the brown. << Are you sure you must leave? If you do not want to we can keep you here. >>

Arekoth leans in toward that young queen as she shifts, making it fully clear that he doesn't mind in the least. H'kon, from his broody lean, has looked back to Miniyal as she speaks. "Well I am sorry for your loss. I was thinking only of the other one you love." A glance to Peloth. And back to looking out to the sky, or to his feet, or wherever. << He says it will make my leg better. It's very inconvenient. >> Nevermind all the pain. << And it won't be long, or else I just wouldn't go. >>

"Sure. Everyone's sorry but no one understands." Miniyal is quite happy being miserable and oh, so sad no one understands how sad. A look is cast towards Peloth as she sighs. "She understands. Now especially I imagine." Indeed, the poor queen. So sad. So milking the sadness for all it is worth. << Are you sure he is sure? Or does he just want to take you from me. It makes sense he is jealous. I will see you soon however. If you do not come back we will come get you. >>

"No." He doesn't understand that part. At length, he will attempt to explain, "But any rider understands the other bond you have. And it should be the more important." << It's taking me away from you that is harder. He says. >> This is thought out in time with an audible little croon, a sad and eerie note. And Arekoth bumps his muzzle on the gold again.

Peloth doesn't croon back but she shifts once more to press against the brown's side and rest her tail over Arekoth's. << Yes, well, you will be back. That was said. I will be happy to see you and show you all my new tricks. I will have lots. >> She offers comfort by acting like she's not crushed. It's hard for her especially when she's dealing with a rider who is a little drunk and very upset and now mad. "What the- You have /no/ right to say something like that. None. You have no idea what I've been through. And don't you dare stand there and tell me that I don't think what I have is important." Two steps are taken towards the gold on the ledge.

The croon brings a sharp grimace from the brownrider. And it's this same grimace that is turned on Miniyal. "I did not say it to anger you," is said, sharp, curt. And Miniyal is otherwise dismissed, with H'kon's attention turning elsewhere. << And I'll have tricks to teach you, of course. I'll practice them until I see you. And then I'll come back and show you. And then we can do them together. Everyone will be jealous. >> To pick up on a recent theme.

<> Peloth rises up from where she was comfortably settled. Likely having been told that it is time to go by Miniyal. "You should be more careful in what you say then," she informs the brownrider. "We have to go. Good luck." Peloth croons now as she headbutts Arekoth gently. << You will come back. I will see you when you do. We will make everyone jealous together. >>

"You should not dismiss it offhand. What you are doing cannot be comfortable." Arekoth brushes his right toe toward Peloth once again. << We will. >> His final returned headbutt comes just as gentle, and it's grudgingly that he makes some space for the gold to take off. H'kon has closed his eyes, and turned back inside. <>

"Tomorrow is a different day. This one hurts too much to remember is all." Miniyal turns away quickly and before she climbs up to leave she leans her head against Peloth's side. Then, after a final little croon of farewell Peloth launches herself off the ledge. <>

"Shared" hunting or protecting an ego.

2007-09-06T03:31:44Z

Who: Arekoth, H'kon, Miniyal, Peloth
Where: Feeding pens
When: Day 14, month 5, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.
What: Peloth helps Arekoth with some hunting while awkward conversation occurs between their riders about what is gone. There may have been tears. As usual the dragons do much better at socializing than the people.
Note: So many hearts to H'kon for continued Arekoth/Peloth love in these last days.

9/5/2007

At High Reaches Weyr, it is day 14, month 5, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.

In the feeding pen there is a gold dragon chewing daintily on a recent kill. The beasts shuffle nervously away from the nearly a turn old queen as she contents herself, for now, with the unlucky member of their numbers. On the other side of the fence Miniyal doesn't watch the feeding, but does keep an eye on Peloth as well as the animals in the pen. Leaning against the fence she smiles, for now, although one hand twists at the ring worn on the other.

Arekoth does the three-legged-dragon walk in from the bowl, H'kon moving alongside him. Even with the dragon rather injured, the poor brownrider has to move quickly to keep up. Short legs will do that, and Arekoth has indeed become something of a world-class jumper. The moment he spots that gold, of course, he's jumping all the faster, awkward, tail and head held up to avoid either bashing on the ground in the seesaw motion. << We can hunt together, now! >> Despite an obvious joy, the dragon's mental voice is certainly somewhat dulled. H'kon, for his part, makes his way directly toward Miniyal, and takes up a lean on the fence, about an arm's length from her.

Hunting together may be doable. However, for the moment Peloth has her kill and she rises up, grabbing it by what used to be its throat to pull it a little farther away. Settling back down she tears off another bite. << We can. I will still be hungry. This is my first. >> Her tail swishes back and forth behind her as she converses with the brown. << You are not well? >> The dull was noticed, it would seem. Miniyal turns her head when H'kon settles down and just nods absently. The smile goes away, but she continues twisting her ring.

When one isn't willing to lie to a friend, avoidance is a fine choice of tactic. Arekoth settles himself carefully into a sort of half-sit, so that the one leg can still be held up in the air. << I'm happy to wait for you. I would much rather combine strategies. It'd be more fun. >> And has nothing to do with the fact that he's somewhat less proficient at hunting now, surely. H'kon looks at Miniyal right up until he's acknowledged and she's looked away. Then, the ground becomes interesting.

Peloth extends her wings and and swishes her tail and is clearly preening as she continues to eat. <> Her eating speed has picked up, although she is still ever so dainty about it. Not a drop of blood splashes anywhere but on her muzzle and if it gets on a claw as she tears it is cleaned immediately. Fussy neat freak. << You are well? >> A different question, asking the same thing as she chews on a haunch.

Arekoth has turned his attention to the herd. <> A short fat thing is pointed out. << Perhaps that one. >> His focus falls now on a younger beast, with long legs. << It would amuse me to clean the bones. >> Talon-lickin' good, or something. At the fence, H'kon glances again to Miniyal. "Is that ring from G'thon?" Awkward. He's no master of small talk, even when trying.

"It was my birthday present last turn," Miniyal answers with all the casual calm she's mastered since the death of one of the weyr's former leaders. "A promise." Shaking her head she stops twisting the ring and stares at it. In the pen Peloth finishes up most of her beast and then rises up. << The best parts are gone. >> She might have eaten more on another occasion, but for now she is going to hunt again. << Which one? How shall we do this? I can just catch it for you. >> A pause as she turns her head to look at the brown. << To show you my technique. >>

H'kon gives his head the slowest nod. "Was it for marriage?" Arekoth, for his part, hops himself up to all three feet, and gives a great big snort, that borders on the sound of a sneeze. << That one, >> is decided. The short fat one is singled with a jerky forward step-hop in its direction. << If you want the kill, I won't deny it. I can chase her to you. >>

Peloth watches the beast in question. << Have you seen me hunt? Watch me. I will show you how it should be done. >> It is all but an attempt at a command from the young gold. Arekoth is not even glanced at as she studies the beast in question. << This is the proper way for hunting. >> He surely has time to help if he wishes as Peloth is a slow hunter, but she makes no effort to allow him to get involved. As for her rider, she blinks several times before nodding her head. "At the time? I am not sure. Later on it- Had Peloth not found me we would have been wed." She has to stop here so she might get the slight strain out of her voice. "I am not sure if it would have been worse or not. His dying."

Arekoth watches all right, and sets to circling in the other direction. His stealth has certainly suffered, even though he gives up the hopping in favour of a sort of cautious slithering, with a slighter bump. Of course, he moves much more slowly for it. << One of them, maybe, >> the brown is willing to allow. Saving face, perhaps. "Ah." H'kon stares at the fence beneath his forearms now. "Would it have changed things?" This is asked purely for the sake of logic. Very matter-of-fact.

"I don't know. I would have at least been with him. At the end. Instead of kept away from him like-" Miniyal clears her throat and watches Peloth move about in the pen. A couple of deep breaths restores most of her calm. Enough so that her lifemate spares her only a small glance before returning to her hunting. "Any change would have made things different. But I would still miss him. No matter what my heart would have been broken." There's no real warning before Peloth moves. A slight tensing of muscles and before the beast can get away she's upon it. It doesn't even have time to make any noise before she crunches teeth into its neck and gives it a shake. That done she lifts it gently and carries it to the brown. << My thanks. For sharing your tricks. >> A bit of salve to the pride of the brown.

"I suppose there is that." Arekoth accepts the kill as graciously as his ego will allow, making a good show of tossing it a ways before settling to consume it. But he'll look to Peloth before setting to ripping the flesh. << And thank you for showing me yours. I'll have to try them on the next one. >> Mmm, meat. "Better to say goodbye then, you think." Musing. Still looking at that fence.

"Better to have the chance," Miniyal answers in a whisper as she brushes away unshed tears with a quick dash of one hand against her eyes. "Better to not be told he's dead after it happened and not even be told the truth of how." Another breath to settle her down, but her hands tighten on the rail as she stares at the ring that catches a bit of sun for a second. <> For now she does not seek another meal of her own. Instead Peloth swishes her tail as she watches the beasts. << You pretend to want one and then take another. Even the smart ones will allow that if you are patient enough. >>

H'kon blinks, stunned for a moment by thesound of those words. "I'm sorry." It's not sympathy - it's an outright apology, spoken hurriedly enough that the words hint at running together. I'ms'ry. Uber contraction. Arekoth is a good audience for Peloth, following her motions in between gulps of herdbeast. << If you wish to show me, I'll watch. Now that I know what you're doing. >> That carcass is disappearing fast. Someone's a hungry boy.

If he's hungry and eating then Peloth will be happy to hunt. She likes to hunt and only hunting for herself doesn't give her nearly enough opportunity. So, while he consumes the first she finds a second and settles down to watch it with just a twitch of the tip of her tail to give away she's doing anything at all. << It is good I can show you something. Since you showed me. We will be quite good friends. >> Miniyal goes back to twisting the ring on her finger and watching it move around on her skin. "It's fine. He's gone. I'm supposed to move on. To accept what I have and let go of what I've lost."

<< We are quite good friends, >> Arekoth corrects. Thankfully, mouthfuls of muscle and ligament don't obscure mental words. <> H'kon, for his part, is at a loss for words. So, after an extended awkward silence, the browrider admits, "I cannot think of anything for that. I... do not know." Broad shoulders receive a quick shrug, and settle simultaneous to the brownrider's sigh.

"There's nothing for it. I was told it would take two turns to even begin to feel normal. But I'm not sure I was normal without him." Miniyal shakes her head and ducks her head, hiding a sniffle in a cough. "It's quite all right not to know. I don't." Lifting her head she looks at Peloth as she watches, in turn, the next meal for the brown. << The knees? I like the belly. It is soft and there are lots of flavors. >> When the beast being watched looks increasingly nervous she moves. A flurry of golden claws and wings and before the beast knows what happened he's down and then dead. << You see? Easy. >> Lifting the beast she carries it over to the brown and drops it. << Quite good friends. Yes. We are nearly free. You will come sunning with me tomorrow? There is a ledge no one has claimed that is perfect. >>

"I cannot imagine it would ever even feel normal... when..." and at some point H'kon's brain catches up to flustered lips, and there's a distinctive subject change. "He and I will only be gone temporarily, I hope." And change again: "Will you be needing anything for your weyr? You and Peloth." Arekoth, thankfully, missed the brief transfer talk. He gives a final gnaw to a knee, and then, nudging the thing away, adjusts his balance and moves on to the next carcass. <> Wings rustle, and he even withdraws his face from the bloody mess to promise, <>

<< Ahh. The crunching. I understand. I like to crunch the middle parts. >> Peloth hunkers down to watch the herd again, perhaps selecting a beast for herself. Again the tail twitches and she sits still. << Excellent. The sun shines just perfect it on it. If you like it you should make him move you there. >> Arekoth may have missed the mention, but Miniyal did not. A sidewise glance to the brownrider and no comment is made on the subject. Perhaps she wants to spare Peloth anxiety for now. "Life is not normal. Those who claim it is are clearly not living it I think. Still, there are people who have lost more than I. I should not dwell."

"Things are more important to you if they are yours." And finally, H'kon can no longer help but look to those two dragons. Arekoth again provides a good audience, though he's eating this beast much more slowly. A smaller brown, it doesn't take much to get the edge off his hunger. << Well I'll look forward to it even more, now. If it really is as good as you say, then maybe I'll talk to him. >>

"I suppose so," Miniyal answers with studied indifference. Poor indifference, really, but she does pretend she's fine. Peloth is not eating so she can be watched. There's no stomach for chewing on animals. It's all enjoyment for the dragon. At least she is fun to watch hunt. <> Peloth would, after all, be unaware of any problems within the weyr. But the ledge is good so what more does she care about? << It has a lovely view as well. Quite high. >>

"Sorry," is apologised once more, this time with a little bit less sincerity. That quasi-offer of things for the weyr is left hanging, and he stares at those dragons. Arekoth's eating doesn't bother the man in the least - and that brown is no neat eater. << You can take me tomorrow. My ledge is good. It gets sun, and the wind can't get it. You should see it sometime, too. >>

She spaced on the offer, clearly. It takes a moment for her brain to process things. Slowly Miniyal catches up to what she heard. "Oh. And, umm. I think- I mean, we should be fine. I've got things from- some our things I will move in once I am allowed to move in. Other than that, I don't know. I won't need much. I need little." Just the gold who in a flurry of claws and teeth has her own meal. She carries it close to Arekoth while still leaving a safe distance. Settling down with it she tears into the throat delicately. If one can describe such an action with delicate it is definitely the way Peloth does it. << You may show me tomorrow. Before we see the one I found. >>

H'kon, dissatisfied with the response, gives a bit of a sniff, and leans more heavily against the fence. << I'll meet you in the air, and we can land together, then. >> He's on the final tidbits of this, his second beastie. "Well, if you think of anything in the next few days. I never gave you anything back for that supper." His present.

"You're not obligated to give me anything back. It was a gift. Anyway, you're letting him spend time with her. That's thanks enough. She really enjoys it." Miniyal may not want anything and has little concern for how she's treated, but kindness to the queen is always looked favorably upon. No matter who gives it. << We have drills in the morning, but when I am done after my bath I will meet you. >> Of course Peloth will have her bath first. And especially before doing anything of a social nature. Another bite is taken as she watches the brown. << We will fly together and then you may show me your ledge. The one I found is better. >> Everything she does or has is better. Even something not hers.

"He enjoys the time as well," is said softly. And H'kon pushes off the fence, standing straight. <> Arekoth almost counters. << And I think you should let me try your hunting technique alongside you. >> "There are things I should see to. He will probably eat a third before he is done." And already that brown is eyeing up the herd.

"Obviously. I suppose it would only have made trouble if you had stuck around." Miniyal glances at H'kon, shaking her head before she looks back at the pen. "I will see you around." Peloth continues to eat, but she lifts a barely stained muzzle to look at the brown. << We will try together. We will see if you are as good a student as I am. >> There is teasing in her tone and she lowers her head to eat. She'll help however she can and Miniyal will remain quiet, twisting her ring, as long as it takes the two dragons to finish up.

"My dragon cannot walk," H'kon calls over his shoulder. Hands are shoved into his pockets, shoulders hunched, and now it's a hurried step. Arekoth is oblivious, spirits lifted by food and company. << If you're as good a teacher as I am, anything is possible. >>

Shaking the ants.

2007-08-26T20:38:12Z

Who: Arekoth, H'kon, Miniyal, Peloth
Where: Dragon baths
When: 10:44 on day 22, month 4, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.
What: Peloth puts her foot down. Also, Miniyal tries to goad H'kon into action. He would have been the perfect person for her to manipulate into where she needed someone. Alas. Still, the idea would have been to create a strong Traditionalist group to counter the Instigators at the Weyr. Why? To see who came out on top. And make sure neither group got overly powerful. Like ants in an ant farm. She just wanted to shake it a little.

8/26/2007

At High Reaches Weyr, it is 10:44 on day 22, month 4, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.

Late morning finds not very many dragons at all being bathed. Most of them are busy with one thing or another after all. One blue is heading out with his rider, the pair of them dripping with the remains of bath water. That leaves a single gold with the water to herself and she's certainly going to take advantage of it. Miniyal gets a break from the washing as Peloth goes about her splashing. Since the pair are already soaked it doesn't seem to matter overly much. When one large wing comes splashing down and sends a wave towards where the goldrider stands she laughs and brushes wet strands of hair from her eyes. "Brat," is all that is vocalized and it's a fond word.

Indeed, most dragons do have busy schedules. Arekoth's, for his part, has a bath pencilled in at this time in the morning, the result of some activity or other that has left the brown's legs and belly rather muddy. The brown still isn't moving that well, and tends more toward the three-legged-dragon hop-walk for the sake of speed, only on occasion attempting a more normal stride - which never really turns out that normal. Arekoth, however, is in relatively good spirits (you can tell by the fact that H'kon keeps rolling his eyes and looking vexed), and this, of course, only improves when, as he sets toward the pool, he sees splashing. And still gets better when he sees from whom it's coming. << Oh good! >>

<< There you are! >> Peloth stops her splashing and straightens up. At almost a turn old she's lost a lot of that awkward presence she carried through weyrlinghood although she's not quite as regal as she might think. << The others left. Too busy to entertain me. >> Not facing the entrance Miniyal is unaware of who it is that has come in. However, the scrutiny with which Peloth gives those newcomers causes her to turn around. And stare briefly without saying anything.

Arekoth's hopping gets a bit more bump as he hurries now, wasting no time in getting into the water - though, of course, Miniyal is given space enough so he won't bowl her over. If not admitting it consciously, the brown does know he hasn't got the same control of limbs that he did before. <> Being hermitted in his weyr or the infirmary has him overflowing with suave, clearly. H'kon, for his part, has to undress, and doesn't get right into the water. He does, however, offer a quick nod of his head to Miniyal, a quick, "Good morning," wish. And Arekoth is head-bumping the gold's shoulder.

"Wingsecond," Miniyal returns as a greeting. Her own clothes have been neatly folded to the side so only the ones she wishes to get wet do so. Her usual shorts and sleeveless top that probably, knowing Peloth's bathing habits, never get truly dry. Since there is someone to play with she's not so interested now in having those last spots cleaned. When head-bumped she does the same back. << That is what I try to tell them. However, they sometimes insist they are. But, you are here now! You are not around so much anymore. It is a shame. >> She does not flirt, it's not really in her to do so, but she speaks with sincerity and there's a touch of something sad in her tone.

<> and of course, there's a hint of the accusing on that, << gets all twitterpated about my leg, even when it's doing fine. >> Nevermind that the brown is holding the limb in closer to his chest now that he's in the water. His wading is more graceful; buoyancy. It's not long before H'kon has stripped down to shorts, and, with a quick flick of his fingers to scratch at his chest, the stocky little brownrider is headed for the pool as well, with further pleasantries: "You are both well?"

Peloth is quite pleased to have one of her favorite admirers visiting with her. She snakes her tail under the water to slap against his before splashing backwards away from him. << You do not have to listen to him all the time. I still have tricks I need to learn. >> Not that Peloth would ever go against Miniyal's wishes, but it's perfectly fine for other dragons to go against their riders if it means more fun for the gold. "We're fine thank you. Is his leg any better? Peloth has been quite concerned." When she remembers. Or is reminded.

Arekoth balances himself with a bit more care than he might usually give before turning to give Peloth a tail-thump to the leg in return. << Yeah, but you should see him when I don't. He gets so pouty... >> If dragons could 'tsk'... Then Arekoth is moving forward to brush his (good) shoulder at the gold. << And that's good. I have tricks I still need to teach you. And I can fly just fine still. >> H'kon's introduction to the water is slow, allowing his body to get used to the temperature. "It is better than it was at first." It's not an enthusiastic endorsement. There's a slight nod, then. "It is good of her to... care."

"She likes him," Miniyal answers with a shrug and no concern at all in her tone. Doesn't seem to bother her that it could cause potential trouble down the line. "She says he is one of the best fliers she has seen. When not busy that is all she does is watch others if she is not in the air herself. If it weren't for feeding and baths I'm not sure she'd come down." Cautious of the hurt leg Peloth is not as playful as she might normally be. When she comes forward it is just to give his good shoulder another head bump. << Hurry up and get better. Then he will not care if we spend time together. >>

<< I'm almost better already, >> Arekoth boasts. Reality, make way for the ego. << We could fly together already. You could show me what you've practiced, even if I can't do some of the harder ones yet. >> A moment is then taken so that he can duck his head under water, shaking it when resurfacing to clear excess water droplets. The praise for his dragon, even if coming from Peloth by proxy, is enough to have H'kon smiling. "He does fly well." He's even willing to admit, "So does she."

Weyrling and dragon both watch the brown for a moment. When Miniyal looks away it is to glance at H'kon and nod. "Thank you. She practices. I wish she'd learn she just cannot maneuver like the greens. She's going to wind up hurt." Shaking her head she gives the non-listening gold a fond look. "Ah, well." Peloth preens a bit at the compliment and splashes a bit of water towards Arekoth. <> Not a request so much as a requirement. She wishes to fly with him tomorrow so he had better be ready.

"Better then to teach her how to manoeuvre as a gold. Familiarise her with her limitations and skills." He glances quickly to the young queen. At whom Arekoth is now blowing bubbles, nose dipped beneath the surface of the water. << I look forward to seeing it. I'm sure you've only gotten better. And you will see that I can fly much better than I can walk. Ground stuff doesn't matter so much. It's in the air that's important anyway. >> This isn't didactic - it's said as though he expects Peloth to know it already.

"Oh, she learns that as well. She just thinks the rules can be changed if she works at it. It keeps her out of trouble." Well, mostly. Miniyal, again, doesn't seem overly concerned with it. Not much to do with her gold really seems to concern her. At least outwardly. "Anyway, enough people are quite happy to inform the both of us of our limitations. If she wants to stretch her wings and try something else I'm not going to stop her unless I need to." Peloth watches the bubble blowing and lifts one leg to claw at those bubbles carefully. <> Of course, she has legs, but that is beside the point.

<< Exactly. >> A breath, and Arekoth starts blowing bubbles faster, a tacit challenge to see if Peloth can keep popping them. His wings can't help but give the slightest stretch, a belated addition to the conversation. H'kon nods a little to Miniyal. "Then I hope she will learn which rules can and cannot be bent." His attention is on his own dragon, now.

Up to the challenge the gold even gives a warble of a challenge to the bubbles before she starts clawing at them again. She cannot, of course, get them all, but she is going to get as many as she can. "Oh, not without getting in trouble, wingsecond. But, that's not a huge deal. I mean, trouble is relative and I imagine we're all in trouble at the moment."

Up to the challenge the gold even gives a warble of a challenge to the bubbles before she starts clawing at them again. She cannot, of course, get them all, but she is going to get as many as she can. "Oh, not without getting in trouble, wingsecond. But, that's not a huge deal. I mean, trouble is relative and I imagine we're all in trouble at the moment." Miniyal watches H'kon watch Arekoth and there's the faintest of smiles that appears before she smooths it away into a more neutral expression. "I imagine everyone has trouble at first convincing their dragons to follow the rules."

H'kon's expression goes a little darker and there's a soft, and downright pensive, "Indeed," to the talk of trouble. Arekoth picks right up on it, and, even while sending forth another bubble assault, a mournful mental nudge is sent to Peloth. << He wants to leave. >> The stresses on that, one would hope, would make it obvious that the dragon isn't meaning leaving the baths for the bowl. Miniyal's second comment does have a bit of a snort, maybe amused, coming from that rider. "I would imagine."

More bubbles escape as Peloth picks up on what is being said. << But I do not want you to leave. >> Poor Arekoth gets hit with enough sadness it draws Miniyal's attention to where the two dragons are. <> See? Simple. << Tell him I will not allow you to leave and so he must forget such a thing. >> Miniyal turns back to the other rider. "Where do you wish to go to?"

Arekoth lifts his head from the water, muzzle dripping, and turns to glance back to the riders. << Just because he wants to does /not/ mean we will. This is our home. >> Peloth gets a soggy head-bump. He's pulling out all stops in reassuring her, clearly. << My leg's fine. >> Another glance at the rider. << And besides, you won't let me leave. >> H'kon looks less than impressed. Loud-minded dragon. "Nothing is decided yet."

<< Exactly. We will make him listen to us. If you wish to stay then you should stay. Why would anywhere else be good? >> Peloth has decided it is decided and so she returns the soggy head-bump with a less than soggy one of her own and a warble of pleasure. Miniyal look at the dragons, shaking her head. "She does not mean to be that way-Well, she does. Why do you want to leave, wingsecond? Have you discussed it with your wingleader? Or the Weyrleader?" Despite whatever conversation she is having with the gold the weyrling weyrwoman has all her attention on the brownrider now.

<< Because things here aren't the way the thinks they should be. But I would hate to leave when there's so many new tricks to teach you, still. >> And it's back to bubbles. "Hm." A glance is spared to the weyrling, and H'kon is quick to cross his arms over his chest, sloshing some water in the process. "I have not yet decided," is repeated with a careful stress to the words. It's only after he's had a moment to consider that he's willing to add, "The cold has not helped his leg." It's not entirely a lie.

"I would think, wingsecond, that as soon as one considered transferring and therefore leaving the Weyr with one less rider that it would be something important enough to discuss. Even if it is not yet decided." Miniyal pauses a moment to tap a finger against her chin. "Well, that is my opinion at least. Not that it is worth much." Shoulders shrug as she looks back at the dragons. << He does not try to change things. That is what she says. She says he is running away. She says if he is only good at running away I should not worry because we are better off without him. However, him being gone means you being gone and I will not stand for that. >> Under the water, in imitation of her rider, Peloth brings one leg down in something like a stomp.

"There is little point in speaking with them before I know if it is necessary," H'kon argues right back, words coming a bit more quickly; defensive. "My duties have not been affected, and we will not leave the Weyr undefended. And it is getting warmer." Arekoth simply snorts, and there's a break in the bubbling. << We do not run. >> The suggestion is offensive enough to bring a certain harshness to the reply. And the brown shifts a little in the water, stretching his leg out a ways before drawing it back in, close.

"That's the biggest load I've seen since I got to stop shoveling, wingsecond." Miniyal lets the dragons work out their own problems so she can focus on the other person present. "If you are /thinking/ of leaving then you should discuss it. There might be other options. Unless you want to leave. If you're just looking for an excuse to run away, by all means, take it and run. High Reaches has no use for those who will not stand up something and instead turn tail." Peloth, this time, is the one who says, << We are leaving. She is very mad. She is afraid of saying the wrong thing. >> Despite the harshness she still shuffles closer and nudges his shoulder with her head. << We will fly tomorrow. You said so. I will see you then. >>

"I do not want to leave my home, but there are things that /must/ be done, weyrling. Any rider should know that the well-being of their dragon is first in all things." Words are all but spat out, though voice stays quite quiet. Miniyal gets a glare for the suggestion. Arekoth's little fit is much quicker to pass than his rider's, and he returns the nudge, the atmosphere of reunion recaptured. << Yes, you will. >>

"Then don't leave. Explore other options of helping him out, wingsecond." Miniyal begins to wade up out of the pool and a moment later, after a final nudge, Peloth follows after her. "It's your decision. Run away or fight to change things. At least have the decency to not lay the blame on Arekoth." She doesn't bother to change, but she does take up her other clothes and head out. Peloth follows along, right close to her rider, although before stepping into the bowl she looks back at Arekoth and sends him a final little burst of affection.

Stupid holders and good wine.

2007-08-21T02:27:40Z

Who: Miniyal and Reyce
Where: The lower caverns
When: Day 26, month 3, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.
What: Reyce is less than pleased about the Instigators being at High Reaches Weyr. So, he goes to console himself with cheap wine. His drinking is interrupted by Miniyal who, as always, says the wrong thing around him. Or at least lots of things. And she's not even drunk! A couple of people are discussed including his baby's mother and her former lover. Also, Roa's name gets taken in vain and there are insults. Oh, and he wastes a perfectly fine bottle of wine. Tsk.

8/14/2007 – 8/15/2007 & 8/20/2007

At High Reaches Weyr, it is day 26, month 3, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.

The lower caverns is riddled with little hidey holes, the kind that every native knows like the back of their hand and every Caucus student gets lost in at least once. Reyce may have been lost here before, but four turns in and armed with a nondescript bottle of wine, it's more likely that he came seeking just such a hidey hole. It's a nondescript place whose furnishings - a trio of sunken old couches - look like they've been here since the Fifth Pass at least. The door is closed, as it always is on these random alcoves scattered through the lower caverns, but when opened it will reveal Reyce slumped against one arm of the least battered couch, drinking straight from his still mostly full wine bottle.

That is yet another problem with the Caucus. It brings in students who learn the hidey holes that the rightful residents of the Weyr should get to use when they want to use them. Miniyal knows every single place like this in her home and has since not long after she could walk. This is not one of her usual haunts, but occasionally she does visit here for assorted reasons. Tonight there's no real reason to be here rather than somewhere else. She just feels like a change. What she doesn't feel like is company which is why when she opens the door she can't suppress a quiet groan when a student, particularly this one is spotted. Ah, well. Steeling herself for ridicule she comes into the room and closes the door, pretending he's not there as she moves towards the back of the room.

As soon as he hears the door open, Reyce whips around, spilling a bit of wine on his fingers as the bottle jerks with his motion. His narrowed gaze fixes on Miniyal, then moves beyond her to see if she's brought any other people with her. Unlikely though that may be. When he sees no one else, Reyce just turns back to his drink with a sinus-clearing sniff, ignoring the groan as he unashamedly starts licking his fingers to get off the dribbled alcohol. Apparently, as aggravating as Miniyal's company may be, it's not aggravating enough to disrupt him from his wine. His eyes follow her quietly to the back, since there's nothing to block his line of sight and nothing else to watch, but the ridicule doesn't come.

"Classy. Must be good stuff." Miniyal comments without looking back at the one she comments to. Instead she starts to shove one of the couches to the left. It sends up some dust from the collection gathered under the couch which makes her sneeze. "Oh, well. So much for this spot. I guess it was time to move anyway." That is just her talking to herself. It doesn't require any response and clearly she hopes for no response. Even if she did talk first. The couch gets another shove to the side and then she grabs the back to shove it forward another inch.

He's been addressed. Reyce blinks at her, then blinks down at his wine bottle. It must be the good stuff she's referring to, but it doesn't look that good to him. He tries it again, a quick swallow that goes down with a quiet hiss of breath - not dissatisfied, but not the genteel appreciation wine should inspire. Opening his mouth at all, even to hiss through his teeth, turns out to be a mistake when some of the dust stirred by Miniyal reaches him, and he abruptly cuts off with a cough. "The hell you're moving it for," he asks, his throat drying out as he speaks and hardly more than a hiss itself by the time he reaches the last word. Another swallow of wine tries to tamp it down.

The couch gets shoved once more and then Miniyal crouches down and begins to sweep away dust on the floor. "People hide things. I always wonder who made these spots to begin with, you know?" Conversational. Maybe she's been drinking already. "But, obviously no one leaves records of that so I just have to wonder." Then she pries up a piece of the floor that looks like someone chipped it out ages ago. From the hole she pulls out a couple of bottles and a few carefully rolled pieces of hide. "So, you're here drinking crap. Why?" A small leather bag is pulled out and tucked away into her boot before she goes about putting the stone back in place.

Reyce's eyes remain thinned, waiting for the dry-out of dust to go away. Then she discovers a cache of bottles under the floor and his interest is piqued, the wine bottle plugged with his thumb while his other arm wraps over the back of the couch. There's an old nail protruding from the back of it, and he jerks back when it scratches his forearm, then simply resettles his arm in a diferent place and takes a look at her find. "Felt like it." He answers quickly, only so he can ask, "You hide that?" with a jerk of his chin towards the cache. His eyes squint down again, more of a considering look this time than a defense against floating dust.

"Yes. I didn't stumble upon it by accident. Well, I stumbled upon the floor. The couch wasn't always here. I had to move it. Luckily people are lazy and never moved it again." Miniyal tips her head to one side. "I'd offer you a drink, but you already have one. And I don't have glasses." And she is not sharing a bottle with him. Nor does she believe he'd want to share one with her. "It's pretty bad to drink without a glass. I mean, even binge drinking our drunkard of a Weyrleader used a glass." With a shake of her head she tucks the small roll of hides into her boot along with the bag of whatevers she retrieved.

A little grunt greets her answer, and Reyce withdraws slightly. "You don't either," he points out, somewhat moody, when she harangues his lack of a glass. The few words are followed up with a rumble as the Bendenite clears his throat, perhaps still bothered by some of that dust. Withdrawing his arm from the couch, he turns his back on her while he goes for another, straight from the bottle drink of wine. "You came here for that or the other stuff?" he wonders. He seemed more interested in the bottles, but apparently he did notice the hides.

Miniyal moves over to the couch near the one Reyce sits on. There she perches on the arm of it and holds the bottles in her lap. "I came for it all. Have to move stuff around or people might find it and then I'm fucked. So, once a turn I go around and switch things up." Shrugging her shoulders she looks at her wine. "I guess when I finally have my own place it won't matter. I'll be able to put everything there and not worry about it." And she certainly doesn't sound like she might not do that. Shifting back an inch she kicks a heel against the side of the couch which brings up a little more dust. The bottles have no markings on them to identify them, but the way she holds them clearly they're worth something. If only to her.

But a honking snort interrupts her while she's resettling herself with those precious bottles. "You're moving things every turn, you think a weyr's good for it?" Reyce wonders. Lifting his shoulder forward, he knocks his nose against it with a squishy, nasally sound that he ignores. "People know where you live, you hide things there, you're not there all the time. No door. And you're gold." He lumps her in with her dragon in one mumbled statement. "Stairs," is the last he bothers to explain, over a huffing sigh, before he goes for another drink.

"Well. . ." Miniyal frowns and shakes her head. "It's different. Besides, I know who lives here. Well, I don't know the recent arrivals. None of them will come digging through my things. And, Peloth will be there when I am not. It's not like I'll have a lot to do, you know." Eyes rolling her brushes a bit of dust off one of the bottles and eyes the cork in it speculatively. "Also, I know how to hide things so people don't even know they are hidden." She stops and then sits up straighter. "I am /very/ good at hiding." she finishes with a hint of pride to her tone. Then she studies the cork again and rubs her thumb over the top of it.

Reyce considers her hint of pride, his cheeks puffed out with a mouthful of wine. His lips pull back again as he sucks the drink down. "Somebody moves a couch," he suggests, turning his gaze briefly towards the one she just retrieved her things from. Speaking of, though, he leans forward and gives his wine a waggle towards the chair that she's sitting on. "Sat there earlier, don't think the arm's on good. Your thing." His safety warning given, the Bendenite falls back against his own, trustily secured couch arm.

Her shoulders shrug as Miniyal holds one of the bottles up. "I would have lost very little. That's why I don't keep everything in one place. It's a risk. But some you have to take. Most of the places I hide things no one but me has been in for turns." The arm is given another kick. "So, what are you hiding from? Issa? Baby? Someone say something mean and you had to go get drunk til you forgot what it was?" Her head tilts from one side to the other as she looks down at the arm she's sitting on. Another risk she seems willing to take. "Anyway! I said. people are lazy. No one moves shit."

When she pushes again for his reason for being here, Reyce lets his eyelids drop low and gives her a lizard's indifference. Stony stare. "You do that," is his return, still not an answer to her question. It takes him a beat to decide that such a question is not fully comprehensible without a little explanation, so he waves a hand and provides some. "Say two things at once. Why am I here, but you're talking about something else already. Can't shut up or you're changing the subject, so I'm not supposed to answer?" The only hint that this is a question is that he remembers to lift his eyebrows at her.

"I'm sorry. Can't you keep up?" Miniyal doesn't smile because she's just not gonna smile around him. It's bad enough to talk. There are lines to draw. "Most conversations are too slow. I get bored. There's just not many people I find interesting. I mean, in a conversational way. They drone on about something stupid or can't keep up." Which would explain the first question. Another kick to the arm and another cloud of dust before she stops and holds the bottles of wine closer. "So. Why? No, I'm truly interested. I won't say a word until I know. Unless you take too long."

Reyce seems a prime candidate for being unable to keep up, but her concern with the subject hasn't instilled in him any particular need to hurry. After asking her to rewind a bit, now he's taking the time to consider his answer. Eventually, he throws off a shrug and decides to share. "Don't like how it's going here, the Instigators," not new people - he doesn't beat around the bush with that, "other things people want to ignore. What's happened. Don't want Asha here and I've got no place to go, I don't like it." He lifts his drink, the level of wine in which has edged a good ways down since she got here, and tilts it. "Don't forget shit when I'm drunk but I'm stupid, it doesn't matter as much. And I don't -" he points the neck of the bottle at her directly, and might have pointed a finger were his not busy holding it in the first place - "like talking to two things at once. Don't say them both," he commands, and releases her from the crushing burden of being singled out by his bottle.

An attentive listener like her has no problem waiting. Miniyal sets one bottle down carefully behind her and begins to open the one still in her lap. It's tough, but she manages it ever so slowly as she waits. The bottle gets pointed and she peers at it, sniffs, and shakes her head. "The only thing worse than a boring drunk is one who doesn't care what he's drinking. Here." Cork partially removed she holds out the bottle. "One of my better ones. Had it for five turns. Was saving it, but not overly concerned right now." And she keeps holding the bottle out to see if he takes it. "Well, all things considered it's hardly surprising they wound up here. I mean, even I saw that as an eventual possibility. Besides, you're letting Issa raise Asha, right? What's the difference?"

Reyce considers the bottle she's holding out to him, snags it, and sets it on the floor in front of him. Gesture received, but not yet moved upon. "Wasting it," he tells her bluntly, but since he hasn't opened it yet, she still has time to retrieve her wasted wine. "And I'm not," he continues, dragging his legs up on the couch. His own wine bottle gets crooked behind an elbow, what remains of its contents dwarfed just by his arm. "Letting Issa-" but his eyes drift off without focus, his forehead faintly creased, and after a beat he returns to her with narrowed eyes and a somewhat hazy attempt at paying close attention. "Difference is Issa wouldn't put her in danger."

Miniyal blinks several times and peers down at her hands thoughtfully. Finally she shakes her head. "No, that's wrong. She wouldn't put her in danger knowingly. Perhaps not willingly. But she would. She's Diya's protege. And Diya would do anything for what she believed in." Looking up at Reyce she almost looks apologetic. "I'm sorry, Reyce, but there's no way I'm going to believe that safe and Issa go together. I respect her in a lot of ways, but I wouldn't trust her ever. Not with anything important." Moving the remaining bottle to the crook of her arm she twists at the ring on her finger, eyes drawn down to the motion and away from him.

When Miniyal shoots him that apologetic look, she meets not anger, but confusion: why are you saying this? Reyce seeks comfort from his bottle, downing what remains of it in one gulp. "Don't like her," he mutters, dropping his eyelids into a low, unfocused glower. "'Nd Issa." His glower trails lower, finding the bottle that Miniyal failed to reclaim and considering it just briefly before he swings it up for himself. A corkscrew appears from nowhere, though it takes him a few tries to get it fixed in the cork adequately. "Issa's what to her, I don't know. Protege?" Apparently under the impression that his ramblings made any sense, he lifts an inquiring look to Miniyal. It's punctuated by the faint pop of the corkscrew as he gets it out.

"Protege. Yes. That's what she was. Diya was her mentor pretty much most of her life." Miniyal looks up from her ring when the cork is popped. One boot stretches down to toe at the floor under where she sits. "I'm not. . .fuck. I don't want to sit here and say bad things about Issa. That's not what I want. I'm just saying that if you are pissed off about the Instigators being here. . .some of them have been here all along. At least people who believe in what they believed in. And, I'm sorry, but she's one of them. She'll raise Asha to be the same way. She's a believer. And you're wrapped up in yourself. Maybe if you took her somewhere else, but she's here. She'll be raised here. You don't think between our new arrivals and Issa and Roa that there's not going to be- Well. I'm afraid you have to get used to it."

The corkscrew's been removed, but Reyce doesn't get to his drink yet. He's too busy concentrating on Miniyal, eyes squinted and brow furrowed, an expression that lasts till she shuts up and he clears with one of his habitual sniffs. "Can't," he breathes out heavily, dropping his eyes so he's staring into the full bottle. "Can't get used to it." His words lapse for a moment, and he draws another of those sniffs. "But I'm supposed to do what, got nowhere to go. And I won't - Issa loves her, can't take her from her mother. /Fuck/ Roa," he bursts out suddenly. Unlike Miniyal, he has no hold-ups about sitting here and saying bad things about someone. But then, he's had more to drink than she has. "Not raising a kid here." His voice drops into a growl for this last, his eyes thinning at Miniyal to direct this new decision.

Around and around her ring goes on her finger. She's been wearing it long enough that it has a nice line to follow and Miniyal does that. Twist, twist, twist. "So, you're not going to raise her here. But, you're not going to take her from Issa. You /really/ think Issa will leave here? You're crazy." Miniyal shakes her head and glances up from her ring for just a second. "Or stupid. Probably both. I mean, I'm sorry, I really am. But there's no way you'll convince her to move. So, you're going to have to take her from her mother. And her mother's going to try to come take her back. And hopefully you sort it out before Asha's old enough to be fucked by it all."

"I'm fucking drunk," Reyce asserts, but after that flash of strength he retreats swiftly, tugging the bottle towards his chest as his eyes fall tp the edge of the couch. "Maybe both," he admits afterwards, finalizing his seizure of the bottle by taking his first drink from it. "She's not what you think. Don't want to say bad about her, but the fuck do you think of her?" His eyes trail their way up the space between them till they find her face, though his own remains downcast, and it's a slanted-up look he gives her. "You're painting this picture of her would sooner risk Asha and piss with me because all she can do's what you expect from her. She's not what you think." He's helpful now, offering this bit of insight with a lift of his bottle before he drinks from it again.

"You better appreciate that bottle. It's rare as shit." Miniyal points this out as if it's more important than anything else being said in the conversation. Well, of course it probably is to her. If it's important enough to hide it's important enough to care about. "I'm not painting a picture. I grew up here. You think I don't hear shit? Think I don't know shit? How many times you think she went to visit them? For Diya, for Roa." Pausing a moment she shrugs. "Fuck, she took me once." The ring stops its circular motion around her finger now and she just stares at it, blinking rapidly. "I don't think she would knowingly risk Asha. I think sometimes she gets caught up in what she believes in and might lose track of all but the goal."

"I don't," Reyce admits about the bottle, holding it out to her again. He's forgotten by now that she abhors his glass-less drinking, but the gesture doesn't seem to be one of rejection: more a confused attempt to be helpful. If he's not going to appreciate that bottle, it should go back to her. It will continue to hang there for a few minutes, until she reacts to it or his arm gets tired of holding it. "You are painting a picture," he points out to her, but this time the phrase sits ill with him and his mouth crumples with dislike over the last few words. He snorts it off heavily. "I know her, you know her, both get different things out of that. 'S waste of time."

The bottle is looked at, but it was given and so she doesn't take it back. Reyce cooties and all going on now. Well, that and Miniyal is not the sort to deny a man who needs his drink. "It's fine. Whatever. I mean, the wine. To dip briefly into being all pitiful and shit, I've no reason to give a fuck about keeping it all anymore. I can drink crap alone." Her head shakes as she rubs the stone on her ring absently. "But, that's beside the point and we're not discussing why I'm pathetic but why you are. Always a nice change. Any conversation between the two of us is a waste of time. Our minds are made up about each other and about what the other thinks. And, neither of us gives a fuck about what the other one thinks. You're a waste of space just like anyone else sent here for Caucus."

All right, back the wine goes. Reyce accepts possession with another drink, not carried off exceptionally well as his lips almost get sucked into the bottle and he has to pull them back with an audible pop. The back of his arm dashes hard at his mouth, trying to rub off the feeling. "Get tired of you," he says, the words muffled as he's still speaking into his arm. "I'm not thinking the same things you are, 'h don't like you but I don't know what you think and don't claim it, so where you're getting that. It's your own thing." He's more successful with the bottle this time, taking a quick swig that doesn't get his mouth stuck.

"I didn't say you were thinking the same things I was. I said we both have our minds made up. And if you say you didn't make your mind up about me a long time ago you're a fucking liar." Miniyal folds her hands together after tucking the unopened bottle tighter against her. "And, of course you get tired of me. Everyone gets tired of me. I get tired of myself sometimes. Not often. I can usually keep myself entertained as long as someone dumb isn't dragging me down. The problem is, and feel free to make of it what you will that I say this, most people I meet are not smart enough to hold my interest. Conversations move too slow. People can't keep up. I mean, even sober you can't keep up with me. It's not your fault. Probably has a lot to do with the way Blooded families tend to breed with each other. I mean, any herder can tell you that's going to lead to, well, what we get. Idiots."

Reyce blinks at her slowly, which is doing a lot to support her point that holders are naturally slow. "You made up your mind," he says softly, some of the drunken slosh leaving his words. Some of his concentration has returned, but it's hard to hold onto it, his eyes squinted down with the effort. "So the fuck are you talking about? I'm Caucus, and Blood, and not smart, you want to prove something to me?" The effort finally fails him, and the squint falls out of his eyes as he releases a settled sigh, tilting the bottleneck in towards himself. "You want to make it a waste of time," is his somber judgment. "I don't. Fuck off."

He's blinking enough for the both of them so Miniyal doesn't do any excessive blinking. She does go back to twisting her ring around because it's just not something she can stop doing sometimes. "Bullshit your mind is not made up. And, mostly I am seeing how drunk you are. Because I'm bored and Peloth won't let me drink any more tonight. So, I figure, watching you try to reason out words to say is better than nothing. Anyway, I don't think you're not smart so much as you choose to only be smart about certain things. Most people do. They find something or other they're good at and ignore the rest. Better an expert at one thing. Me, I want to know everything. I'm getting there. And, fine. Make it not a waste of time." Sitting there on the arm of the couch she twists her ring and kicks one foot back and forth, waiting.

Reyce waits a beat to process her decision not to fuck off as ordered, but ultimately winds up shrugging it off. Ignoring her fidgets, he settles himself back on the couch and lets his head lean over the pillows, keeping it upright enough that he can toss a drink down his gullet like a stuffed goose when he wants to. "You're talking about math. 'S fine," he breathes, deciding to take one of those drinks now. Once it's gone, with a smacking sound while he clears his lips, he continues: "I'm not at the bottom yet, I don't care about knowing everything. What I remember you weren't interested in it, don't know that you do either. And didn't say," he lifts his free hand to wave in her direction, from what he remembers of where she was sitting. "Didn't say hadn't made up my mind about you. Said I have, think, that I get tired of you, what else. Don't think it matters, though - and pick one." He tacks the last injunction on there quickly, and with an emphatic jab from his blindly waving hand, but doesn't explain himself. If she's been paying attention, she may remember the phrase (some version of it) from back when he growled about her changing to a new subject before he could answer the first one.

"It's so hard to keep up with what you want me to do. It's worse than when you're sober. At least then you just growl and act surly. It's a very good act too. I've wondered about it often." Miniyal stops kicking with her foot, but continues twisting her ring. "I mean, is it purely a defensive mechanism? Is there a little crying Reyce inside who was never loved and so acts all mean and bad so he doesn't get hurt? That's usually what it means." Here she stops so she might tilt her head to the side and purse her lips. "I'm guessing that's you. And when you found someone to accept you for being an asshole you figured you were validated and therefore it was wrong all along to have tried to be nice, if you ever were, and being said asshole was the way to go. So, really, Issa would be enabling your inability to get along in society. But, I don't think you care much about society as a whole. At least that was my impression a long time ago. I think I'll stick with it too. You care about yourself and maybe another person or three. Oh, but you wanted a new topic. Well, how about the old one. What are you going to do about being stuck here with all the Very Bad People who tried to change the world?"

"No, we've done that topic." Reyce answers immediately, but his words are drawn out. Disinterested, then, but pretty mild about it. "Would say you're wrong but I don't know about it, all I know's details so I don't go for a broad guess what I am. 'T makes sense." There's a missing 'if' in there, just detectable from his tone. Yet he seems to acknowledge that he's not making sense, his free hand lifting again just to flick the fingers gracelessly. "Issa, though, what I thought, is being with her you want to be like that, the kind of person she can talk to 'cause it's easy. I'm not," he admits, rolling his head to the side where he can just catch a quick glance at Miniyal before his eyes roll into a more comfortable position, absent and looking straight off the wall. "Don't like people and I'm not interested what they have to say, 's false when I try so I don't. How I think of it, that one of it, now."

"Fine. Umm." Miniyal is not good at coming up with topics. She's not a good conversationalist. Never has been, never will be. "So, you don't like Roa?" Well, she came up before, but was not discussed. And since she gets to pick the topic she'll be nosy. "What about R'vain? Sefton? Any of them. Feel free to pick one and tell me what you really think. I mean, sure you don't like people but you have to have an opinion about them. Myself, I like people. Oh, not in general. In general they are asses and I'd hit them if I were the sort inclined to violence which I am not. I find it disgusting and the refuge of the idiotic. And, of course you're not interested. What did I say? So self-centered. Like, a text book example. I've done a lot of reading on that sort of thing. Studied a lot of people. It's easy when no one really notices you. I guess they notice me now. Sucks a lot, but nothing I can do about it now."

While she speaks, Reyce takes a drink, since even he has noticed that when she opens her mouth it tends to be a while before she closes it again. Plenty of time to knock down the wine level in that bottle another few notches; good thing he's a Bendenite and can hold his wine. "Don't care," he exhales on an alcoholic sigh. He stuffs the bottle between his knees, another sign of the reverence in which he holds this gift from the queenrider. "Know what I think of them, don't care about it. You're the one studies people, and that I've made up my mind about you, wonder what you say for yourself, think how I'm this way for whatever reasons."

Miniyal's head tilts over and shortly after that straightens it and tucks a wayward clump of hair behind her ears. Still not long enough to tie back she must continue to chop it off haphazardly on her own. Hardly the sort of look most people in her position would go for. "Here's the thing. I know myself. I'm boring. I know what pisses me off, what makes me cry, what makes me happy, what makes- Well, anything. I don't know what makes other people do things. It's fascinating. If you say something to one person they smile and another person looks upset. If you try to help one person they are grateful. Another person yells at you for daring to think they can't do it on their own. People are so interesting. Not that I get them, because I don't. I mean, I don't connect to people." She pauses after that before shrugging. "Well, Gans. But he did that. I mean, he started it. He made it easy to connect. I think him and Issa have a lot in common that way. Their personalities are pretty similar in a lot of ways."

That lifts Reyce's head off the couch, because no matter how drunk he is, any comparison between Issa and Gans will register. He regards her somewhat blearily, though, so it's not clear how much he's really keeping up with this conversation, the evidence that he's as slow as she claims he is mounting without him seeming to notice (or care.) "You're okay with him," he states, his tone flat throughout but his eyebrows making an effort to lift and create a question after he's finished speaking.

"I love him." It's a silly almost question he asks. Miniyal's tone may be missed in his state, but it's clear she thinks him a fool for assuming she might not be ok with her dead lover. "Do I find what he did to Yevide reprehensible? Yes. I told you. I abhor violence in all its forms. But I do not believe that one action defines a man no matter or terrible, or great, that action was. He made mistakes in life. There were things he did I did not agree with. We. . .discussed some of them quite seriously. But, he didn't agree with- Well, no, actually. He never really spoke with disapproval of my actions. I think because he was afraid I would stop trying to do things. I'm a mess. In a lot of ways he may not have helped, but at the same time I couldn't be the person I am now without him. I'm sure you don't care to listen to me go on about-" Now she blinks and drops her chin down to stare at her lap so she can work on the not crying thing.

Miniyal can go on talking as long as she likes; Reyce checked out after 'I love him.' His head eases its way back to the cushions, soon to be followed by a quiet drink of wine, and his eyes stare straight up at the ceiling while she blathers and he considers her words. Because of it, though, she gets plenty of peace to rein in her tears, since Reyce isn't watching, and though he must be aware of the sudden silence, he doesn't seem motivated to fill (or interrupt) it.

That would be a good thing because it takes her some time and even when she lifts her head again she can't quite conceal the redness to her eyes. Of course, Reyce being drunk it's a pretty good guess that Miniyal will get away with it. "I'm done. Wow. Way done. I don't- Fuck. Anyway. You're seriously dull. Are you even awake? Should I have Peloth bug Oshisyth so Issa can come haul your drunken ass back home? I hope you don't do that a lot when Asha gets older. She'll know. It's rough for a kid to be raised by a drunk. They tend to turn into them themselves. Although not in my case. I did it on my own. My parents can't be blamed for that at least."

"Fuck off," Reyce reminds her simply, but answering quickly enough to prove that he has in fact stayed awake. He takes another drink of that wine she so kindly gave to him.

"Oh. Was that a yes or a no? Well, too late anyway. I already told her." Miniyal grins and may or may not have done it. . .ok, she didn't, but he has no way of knowing and she can't help it. A drunken Reyce is a good target. "Peloth says she didn't seem too upset so maybe Issa isn't going to mind. Do you think she'll bring Asha? How's she going to carry both of you do you think?"

Even drunken Reyce has doubts that she did this thing, though it takes him a few moments to puzzle out why he doubts it. "She would be," he states indistinctly. "'nd Issa's not coming down here, haul my drunken ass back home." He's too far gone to attempt one of his impressions, alas for Miniyal, but it's a feat in itself that he remembered her words well enough to quote them. "Don't make fun," he remembers suddenly, breaking into what seemed like the end of his effort at speaking to add this on, "about Asha. She's a kid. Don't care you mock Issa and me but you don't her."

"Oshisyth would be upset? I don't really know her that well. Anyway, that's beside the point." Miniyal rises to her feet and holds onto her bottle with one hand. "I wasn't mocking her or making fun of her. I was expressing concern about her. I mean, Issa's a wingsecond. If she won't foster her daughter out she has to know she can depend on the man presented as the baby's father to help her out. Otherwise her work is going to suffer for it and I sort of think I'm supposed to care about that shit and all. Well, not /right/ now because I haven't graduated, but I've always been ahead of the curve. It's hard most of the time because I get bored. I wouldn't ever make fun of a kid. Never. And you really have no clue about me, I know, I know, you don't care to, if you even entertain the notion that I would. So, fuck you, Mr. Pity Party."

That gets Reyce's attention again, his focus sharpening rather than just blankly watching the ceiling. "I didn't like the way you talked about her, you were leaving last time. Gave her the gifts." Of course, technically Miniyal was also giving him a gift, but Reyce leaves the black locket out of his reckoning in a moment of drunken indiscretion. "Said something, she should grow up like her parents, and you're not making fun with that. Know you think bad about both of us."

Miniyal's head tilts to one side and she studies first her bottle of wine and then her ring. "I don't think bad about Issa. I don't know why you think I do. She knows damn well what I think of her. I've told her. Fuck, I told you. I respect her. You, you're a complete ass. I have no use for your kind. However, I do think Asha should grow up to be like her parents because as much as I dislike you I do not dismiss the fact that somewhere you have good qualities. And with any luck she'll get those. Don't sit there and try to tell me what I fucking think, you son of a bitch." It's so much fun when a button is pushed. "You have /no/ idea what I think. You try to act like you do. Like you can toss me into some. . .some predetermined space. I hate people who think they have any idea what I do or do not think when they've taken the time to even fucking talk to me unless they were sure they could work a good insult in. Yes, I hope your daughter is just like you both. And, yes, partly so you both see what a complete pain in the ass it is to deal with someone like you. So, just shut the fuck up. Sit there like a whiny drunk because you don't like what's going on around you. Since when /have/ you liked what's going on around you? At least you have-" And she stops again and glares at the Bendenite. "You have so much and you're sitting here bitching about something instead of being thankful for what you have. You could be home right now. You have a home. You have people that give a fuck if you show up drunk or not. Who worry about you. People like you make me sick. You have what some people will never have and it's still not good enough. Just because every little thing is not going your way. You make me sick."

Being yelled at really does not allow Reyce to melt back into his state of drunken indifference, so he has to struggle upright. It takes some effort - he has to grab at the chair arm and use it for leverage - but he gets there, and the more she talks the more he seems to sober up. Seems, however, is probably a key word here: after as much wine as she's seen him drink, it has to be an illusion. "Tell you what you fucking think, the fuck you think you've been telling me this whole time but that, what I think of you, what I think of things, anything you've decided's true so far as you care. That the only reason I talk to you's so I can insult you, that's not you fucking telling me what I fucking think?" The mark of a drunk: excessive use of curse. "Fuck yourself, your 'makes me sick,' your own pity party makes you think you can tell me what I have for my family's not enough for you." Also: incomprehensible threats. Reyce grabs that chair arm tighter and leans forward, even, his narrowed eyes turned up to the weyrling where she stands. "You don't know shit."

"Actually," and by now Miniyal has calmed down. Possibly just because she got him worked up or possibly because she's just going through rapid mood swings. "I told you how you /act/. Our actions are not always a reflection on our thoughts. You may think something entirely different. If you think at all. But, the way you present yourself and the way you act implies just what I have said." She nods her head once and then rolls her eyes. "Don't bother trying to debate me right now. You're too drunk to stand a chance. And, I know plenty. Oh, not as much as you in all sorts of things I imagine, but I know enough to know that I've got you pegged as far as your actions go. Fuck, you're not hard to figure out." There's a full stop so she can really look at him, quite the stare before she snorts. "Big man, Reyce. Go on. Tell me what I say is wrong. But it's true. You have someone you could be talking to about all this. You have people who would just do their best so you didn't have to think about it tonight. Instead you /chose/ to come here and drink alone. You rejected them. And that's disgusting. That's worse behavior than anything I've ever done. I may not try very often, but I don't throw away what I have. I used to think someone else's behavior was the lowest I'd seen around here, but I was wrong. You're the lowest thing I've seen around here. Enjoy your drinking. I'm sure you will since it means more to you tonight than anything else."

The hit comes out of nowhere, wrapping across his body to thud the arm of the couch. Reyce's left hand slides back, finding a grip on the cushions beside him as his right fist aims another blow, then another until there's a surprisingly soft crack and the old wood snaps. Now the furniture matches: the arm of this couch is as loose as the one Reyce advised Miniyal not to sit on, and as soon as that's been accomplished, the Bendenite sinks tamely against the thing so it leans away under his weight. An arm crooks to provide his stubbled cheek somewhere to rest, and he doesn't seem to notice or care what he's done to the couch. His eyes have closed, but his expression remains visible: a little soppy from the drinking, but otherwise a blank. The bottle she gave him fell to the floor when he moved, and now holds only a shallow layer of wine, whatever ran too low to spill out of the open top.

"Violence never solves anything." Pointing this out is probably, well, pointless. However, Miniyal cannot resist and so does, in fact, point it out. "Although it does break furniture. Are you always an angry drunk? Not that you don't seem pretty angry a lot of the time. Well, when I see you. Well, you're not the first person to seem angry around me. Still. . ." The hand that doesn't hold her unopened bottle of wine scratches her head before falling down to find its way into her pocket. "You know, you remind me of someone right now. Oh. Right. Our Weyrleader. He's an angry sloppy drunk too. At least he's entertaining though. Ah, well."

But violence has solved something: it broke the couch, and now Reyce feels better for it. Better being, of course, a very relative term: hazy indifference is surely better than drunken rage. "You want something?" he asks the lingering weyrling, taking visible care to keep his enunciation clear. Perhaps so he won't add slurred speech to the list of similarities between him and the Weyrleader. He shifts from his spot, glancing down at an old nail that pushed out of chair while he was punching. A belated check informs him that the nail did, in fact, graze between two of his knuckles, but the scratch there is shallow and merits no more attention than it takes him to spit on the blood and let it sink in.

The question asked causes a tilt of that weyrling's head. She looks at the holder with a thoughtful expression. "Not from you." Shaking her head Miniyal holds out the remaining bottle. "Want to pass out? I mean, a waste of an excellent vintage, but I'm nothing if not generous. Or whatever. Oh, yea. I just want to see if you puke or pass out in the next hour. I could arrange some people to come check." She holds the bottle out another minute or so to see if it will be taken as one foot taps a few times on the floor.

"Not going to." If she's generous, Reyce is considerate, letting her know in advance he won't puke or pass out. He thinks. The bottle hangs in limbo for a good twenty seconds of that minute before Reyce starts to move, withdrawing that arm beneath his cheek and planting it on the couch again as he pushes himself to an unsteady sitting position. After narrowing his eyes at the wall across from him, probably (given his state) waiting for it to stop swimming, he gives his head a quick shake and a snort to help clear it. Whether that works for him or not, his next step is not to go after the bottle, surprisingly enough, but to push himself the rest of the way to his feet. He manages to be steady on them, staring down at Miniyal from beneath lowered eyelids and giving a sinus-clearing sniff, but he doesn't test that steadiness by moving just yet.

Withdrawing the bottle back to her body she nods. "Need a hand?" Miniyal looks back at him with a little shake of her head. "I can send for someone to carry you home? Or to the infirmary? They're probably used to people stumbling in before throwing up. I imagine most of them hope a person throws up before hand as it makes clean up easier if they don't have to do it. I can completely understand that. Cleaning up after people is never fun." Him being so drunk she can not worry if her tone might imply she refers to something other than just someone being physically ill. It's amusing or interesting or she just has a few more minutes before she really has to go off and do something like open up the really good bottle of wine and consume it. With a glass. Like a civilised person.

As she keeps talking at him, Reyce's gaze begins to wander past her, finding its way to the door where it fixes till she's done. "Can have your room back," he answers, ignoring what she actually said to give that assurance. No sooner is it offered than he sidesteps Miniyal, and now that it's been tested his balance proves steady enough to let him walk, but not at the brisk pace he might like to get away from the weyrling. Instead, he's left shuffling his way to the exit.

She spares him, at least, any last comments. Miniyal stands with her bottle and watches him. Well, to be fair, she /tries/ to spare him any last comment, but it's just not in her to let someone have the last word in any conversation. "You're so kind. Watch your step. Falling and breaking your neck would be horrid. Well, someone would be sad anyway. Somewhere. Have a lovely night." Shuffling away makes it pretty near impossible to not get something tossed at you in the final moments of a conversation.

Reyce lifts a hand over his shoulder to give her last word a dismissive wave, but soon that hand is needed to navigate the door handle and let him back out into the lower caverns, so he can shuffle along to another quiet nook and rest up (perhaps throw up) before dinner time.

Any landing you can limp away from.

2007-08-12T23:02:03Z

Who: Arekoth, H'kon, Miniyal, Peloth
Where: Southern bowl
When: Lunchtime on day 22, month 3, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.
What: Peloth and Arekoth take a turn together in the air. All goes well until Arekoth does not nail the dismount and gets hurt. H'kon is grumpy. Miniyal is mostly quiet other than a few small insults before the injury occurs.

8/12/2007

At High Reaches Weyr, it is 11:59 on day 22, month 3, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.

Arekoth is already in the sky, flying low in the bowl in lazy circles, attention tuned in to the weyrling area, expecting to see that favourite gold of his emerging at any moment. The air is damp, and the winds are heavy enough to require a bit of careful navigation, but it obviously isn't enough to dissuade the brown. He'll even let out an impatient rumble as he dips in closer to the lake. Come on.

Peloth takes her time in emerging, not that she's not happy to fly with the brown, but to make her point. He waits on her and not the other way around. If her rider doesn't seem overly concerned with rank that is her problem, but Peloth makes quite sure all the other dragons know who is the boss around here. As she is the best ever she is clearly the boss. So, while she is eager she appears after a few moments and once she's cleared the wall just enough she launches herself into the air to swoop over the lake and pass by the impatient brown.

Ahah! Just as Arekoth was dipping talons to make little ripples in the lake, there's that gold, and it's with a slight spray of water that the brown veers upward, this time bugling a welcome, and, with a few speed-gaining flaps, making to to swoop in close to the younger dragon. << You're here! >> There's something almost triumphant to that, never mind the waiting game he's had to play. He moves upward in a tihgt spiral. << We're going high today, right? >>

There's a soft answering bugle. Of course she is here. Peloth never passes up a chance to fly. <> Lest the brown's ego get too large. << We will go high. Try to keep up. >> And with that she catches an updraft and gains altitude. She won't stop as long as she's able to flap her wings and keep finding the right currents to soar on.

<< It's good that you're not hungry, >> Arekoth intones, making well sure to dance to either side of the gold as he does so. Any slight fallings back are surely a tease before he gains once more. << If you've eaten recently, you'll fly better. >> A gust of wind brings a few more water droplets to make his hide shine. He must be aware of this, moving toward a lighter area of the sky. Glistening works better with light.

She flies up straight to gain altitude before she takes part in the dance. Peloth falls back just enough to go under him and come up on his left before she catches an updraft once more and takes the lead with a swish of her tail. <> Maybe she means the both of them. Or maybe she means her and her rider. Either way, she doesn't let something simple like talking interfere with something more complicated like flying. <>

Arekoth revels in the two-way dance, whipping himself about in the winds as best he can, snapping forward, falling back, and occasionally letting out some sort of vocalisation for the general joy of the whole thing. <> is quipped back. <> Thankfully, there's an updraft for him to catch, and give some improvement to his altitude. Side-to-side comes at a price. << There are ways to fall with a special style. >>

<< You may show your tricks to me. >> Peloth, ever generous. Leveling out she swoops a large circle around the brown before diving down and twisting to come straight back up with a few hard beats of her wings. If she admires the way he looks she's given no indication as such. The way he looks is secondary. << You do fly well. Not as well as me, but there are not many who can keep up. Most of them are dull to fly with. >> Like those pesky greens who can do way more tricks than her. Damn their smaller size!

<< So do you. >> He moves into a lazy circle, to be sure and keep track of that little manoeuvre of the gold's. << And you aren't at all dull to fly with, either. Now, watch! >> A bit more time put into the circling to be sure he has her attention, and then the brown pushes up a bit more, climbing at a steep angle for as long as he can manage, then adjusting his wings to work more as stabilisers than as sources of motion. Body is held stiff, and he makes himself to be nearly straight up and down. And loses momentum. And starts sliding backward, down, tail-first. It doesn't last long before he's righted himself and set to a glide, of course. << Be sure your wings are strong for that, or else they'll snap off. >>

Lazy circles of her own begin as Arekoth shows off his trick. Peloth keeps her eyes on him and it's a good thing no one else is about because she might have flown right into someone else's air space. << Show me again. >> It's a demand couched in a request and she clearly expects to be obeyed as she gains just a bit of altitude so she might watch from a higher vantage point. << My wings are plenty strong. >> Just a bit of firmness there under the usual cool tone of her voice.

<< You need your wings to keep yourself straight, because you have to hold your tail still, >> the brown instructs, even as he starts his climb for a bit more altitude. << Then you just fall. And then you have to stop falling, and twist forward so you can catch the air again. >> Wings are set to rudder-mode once more, and the brown keeps his body quite stiff and straight for the backward slide. Slightest tilt of wings brings him belly-down, and then it's all about catching himself. As per the instructions. << Hardest is to not fall onto your back, not unless you mean to loop out. But don't do that yet. >> That last is a command. You'd think he were a bronze or something.

<< Loop out? >> There is a thoughtful quality to her voice that others have come to fear. As if Peloth is not quite able to do /anything/ that anyone points out. However, for whatever reason and quite possible there was a little assistance from her rider in keeping her out of too much trouble she gains a bit more altitude and then mimics the brown. <> In her mind, at least. But, she behaves for a change and while she loses a bit more height than he did she comes out of the fall and lets out a triumphant bugle. Clearly she meant to fall that far. Besides, they are up high. What does it matter.

Arekoth adds his bugle to Peloth, dropping some of his own altitude until they're on the same level, or thereabouts. << Now this one - it can make your head spin. >> There may be a pun intended there, because next, after he's once again gone higher (surely a tacit invite for Peloth to follow), he's arching around, and using momentum of head and limbs to carry him in a backwards loop. Again, falling with style. A moment to level, then wings are tucked and he turns around on himself a few times. A bit of a corkscrew before evening out fully. << You really need to throw yourself back for that one, or else you won't make it over. >> And maybe it's the over-developed sense of elation, or maybe it's the loud bugles through the bowl, or maybe it's just a learned behaviour not to trust Arekoth alone for too long - but just as the dragon is executing this flourish, there's a scowly brownrider stomping out into the bowl.

If he's going higher than Peloth is not going to be left behind. She rises up right next to him with just inches between his wing and hers. Playing chicken with the brown to see if he would have moved. Once more she watches him execute the trick and this time she doesn't ask for it to be repeated. Instead, having convinced her own rider it's more fun to just let her play there's nothing stopping her from following him. It's not bad for a first attempt, but it's nowhere near as good as his. This is shaken off with a twitch of her tail. << That is fun. >> For all she tries to remain calm there is definitely a bubble of pure elation in her tone at learning something new and fun and not just new and what she should do. Her circle takes her farther away from Arekoth and when she can turn she heads straight for him until close once more and then she arcs up just enough to pass over his back without touching him. Down below, Miniyal doesn't bother trying to watch. She just leans against the wall of the bowl with the look of someone completely not paying attention to anything.

Only moments after the gold has skimmed him, Arekoth tucks into another downward corkscrew, then is quick to loop and chase after her. << It is fun! That's the point of flying. That, and fighting, of course. >> How can Threadfall possibly be far from a dragon's mind, especially when he has, in a way, been promoted, and has a rider worrying about it so consistently? << But fighting's fun too. >> And for now, Arekoth is content with another close manoeuvre with that gold, coming up fast behind her, trying to match her pace from just above. In the bowl, H'kon doesn't bother looking for Miniyal. Not yet. For now, he's busy squinting up through the somewhat hazy sky, arms crossed hard over his chest. And what he sees of Arekoth's newfound game, he certainly doesn't appreciate. Frowny-face.

<< There are few things I am told I am allowed to do that are fun. >> Petulance? Not much. A wee shade, perhaps, from the not so very grown up queen. << This is fun. That is why I allow you to fly with me. >> Peloth is so nice. She loops around and loses a little altitude in the process. Wings beat to regain what height was lost as she lets out another bugle. << Fighting. It is not the same for me. But flying is the same. So, we shall fly together. >> Finding the brown again she dives down for him, pulling up before even getting close. On the ground it's a good thing H'kon is not looking for Miniyal because the only way he's going to get her attention will be by shouting or maybe shaking her. Why pay attention to the dull world when she can share more fun experiences with her dragon? Even though she can barely make out the spots in the sky that make up Peloth and Arekoth her face tilts upwards towards them.

Arekoth counters with, << This is why I'm willing to teach you my tricks. >> A few playful swoops at the gold, and then it's up for the altitude again. Preparing for another one of these tricks. << This one is fun too. Just let go. >> And he's up, again going as close to straight up as he can manage. This time, instead of looping backward, or sliding back on his tail, Arekoth gives a sharp tail-whip out to one side, and leans to the other, and so veers to the left. And lets himself tumble a good ways before he's rights himself. << It's harder to keep track of things when you're flipping sideways. But you really get to feel the wind. >> On the ground, H'kon growls something. It's non-verbal, and surely meant for the dragon. And /now/ he'll look for that goldrider. And stomp over there. Even if she doesn't see him.

At least she is a good student. Peloth stops circling wide and watches as as the brown shows off his next trick. << It is never hard for me to keep track of things. >> More boasting, but she's in good company for that. Waiting until she is sure he is done Peloth again sets herself up to mimic what the brown just showed her. She's good with her tail and she's good in the air and if she hadn't got a little twisted up in her mind on where she was she would have done better. Instead she tumbles a little farther than she meant to, getting herself righted fine, but not without some having to work at it. << That was fun. >> See? She's fine. She meant to do that. Like a cat that skids across the floor and goes head first into a cupboard. Down in the bowl Miniyal has to give her head a little shake as Peloth rights herself in the air. But she still doesn't notice the stomping frowny face on his way towards her.

H'kon pauses for long enough to check on the gold's tumbling. And then he's mad. "Bring her down." It's ordered to Miniyal, even as a sharp, downward jab of his finger is given. Eyes are on the sky for that, though, and it's likely a gesture meant for the brown. In the air, Arekoth has followed quickly after Peloth as she tumbles, but once all is well, he sends a wave of approval her way. << That's one of my favourites. That and the first one. >> And then there's a snort from the brown, though it might not be heard for the gust of wet wind that's come up. << He's worried something will happen to you. I'd never let anything happen to you. >> Circling...

Up in the air Peloth acts as if nothing bad happened and a little trouble righting from a proper tumble is no big deal. <> She doesn't, at first, pretend to hear what else is said by the brown. But, he gets the equivalent of a mental sigh that is more affection than annoyance. << He is dull. I do not like him. Neither does she. Nothing will happen to me. I would not leave her. >> And since she /would/ not clearly she believes she /could/ not, even by some misfortunate accident. "Sir, they're just playing. Leave us be." Miniyal doesn't take her eyes off the sky. There's still nothing down here she wants to see. "Lighten up. No one's doing anything wrong. And, you're not the boss of me." Now her eyes flicker over to the brownrider, but just long enough to take in his expression. Then it's back to focusing on Peloth and what goes on overhead. "All things considered, they deserve their fun."

"Playing dangerously," H'kon notes with a frown. In the air, Arekoth has allowed his circling to slowly - slowly! - bring him closer to the bowl. << We can practice it together. You're safer with me. And he's not always dull. He just worries too much. He's never got to fly with you. >> It's not as outright defensive as it might have been, and the brown does indeed try to make up for some of his mud-sticker's ways by turning hard for a quick swoop in toward Peloth, accompanied by a playful little warble of sorts. H'kon has few other arguments, it would seem, opening his mouth, closing it. "I will not have her hurt," is finally decided.

With a shake of her head Miniyal focuses for the first time on H'kon. "She won't get hurt, sir. She's a great flier. You worry too much. You're worse than an old man." Verdict given she resumes Peloth watching as the gold slowly becomes more visible as she makes her way towards the ground. "You're just scared." Said under her breath, but clearly meant for the wingsecond to hear. Peloth, for her part, bugles once and dives down even though it means coming closer to the ground faster. She likes the rush of wind and it's not like she lands. Instead she sweeps back up and comes under the brown where she crosses his downward trajectory back and forth.

Miniyal's words are likely being backed up in the form of a mental conversation, and H'kon has managed to take on quite the squint for it. "One of us ought to be scared for your dragon," is noted quite dryly. He does bristle, however, just enough that he takes a step away from the weyrling rider. Arekoth has followed Peloth's dive, and weaves in all too easily into the trajectory-crossing and dancing. Another dip will find him brushing the top of the lake - surely a show of rebellion for that scowling brownrider.

"Why should I be scared for her, sir? She's doing fine. She's great up there. I'm not going to stifle her fun just because /some/ people have no clue as to the meaning of the word." Miniyal casts a sidewise glance towards the other rider that is not quite mocking, but certainly not respectful. Peloth happily allows the downward spirals to be as slow as the brown will let her make them. She chases him across the water before veering around him and going back up again. << It was fun. >> With a little height gained she drops down to do a nosedive landing on the bank of the lake. At the same time she imbues her next sentence with enough warm affection to alter her normally cool voice. << Thank you for showing me. >>

H'kon has no good answer for that - or none that doesn't hint at a general tate of paranoia brought on by recent events - and so keeps his mouth closed, and shrugs. Arekoth, for his part, allows a final little buzz toward the young queen after she's landed. << It really was my pleasure, you know. We'll do it again. When things are calmer. >> And he moves to whip around, dropping fast for a landing as near the gold as is safe. And indeed, it's not the gold's proximity that prompts the bellow upon touchdown, but rather the general muddy nature of the bank of the lake. Mud-chunks fly, wings are stuck right out, and the brown is quickly on three legs, with all four feet properly caked. And H'kon has just gone pale, lost in the split-second of hesitation that accompanies such things.

And it just goes to show it's the worriers who wind up with problems. Miniyal is watching Peloth with an affectionate smile that fades with some sort of situational awareness that clues her in maybe something is not right. "Sir? Are you all right?" Dragging her gaze from the somewhat muddy gold who probably just mentioned desiring a bath she focuses on the wingsecond. Besides, Peloth is not watching Arekoth so much as moving towards him to come to a stop near where he stands. << What has happened? >> And she edges a little closer to try to give him a little nudge of worried concern with her head.

H'kon doesn't answer Miniyal, but rather goes and gets himself all muddy too, moving toward that big dragon, who can't help but instinctively turn a shoulder to receive Peloth's nudge. Hide the hurt leg. The front leg that's still on the ground - that is to say, the right one - gives a little hop. << Ow. >> It's said calmly enough, almost joking. Pity there's that ripple of pain that can't be ignored, and can't help but be transmitted. And soon there's a tiny, boring brownrider pushing himself in between the dragons.

Since she's not going to be any help Miniyal stands back. She does watch, but there's no offer to do anything knowing how Arekoth's rider feels about her and such. For her part, Peloth seems offended to be pushed out of the way. Tail twitches and wings shake once before she graciously, mostly, retreats. Besides, it doesn't keep from her from sending more concerned affection as she settles by where her rider is. << Your bad leg? I am sorry. We were having such fun too. >> Settling down her eyes whirl faster as she watches her playmate with continued mental concern and support for him.

<< It'll be fine. >> Arekoth even straightens his neck a bit to shoot Peloth a glance, bravado all over, before he's dipping his head back in to look at that leg. Which H'kon has taken a light hold of - as if a human's gentle touch could hurt a dragon. "Straighten it," is murmured out loud. << I'm tough, >> is insisted. Even as the attempted straightening brings a rustle of wings. Displeasure.

<< That is why flying is better. There are not the problems of landing. >> She allows a hint of amusement in her tone now as if trying to share a joke. When his wings rustle she stands like she might move back over to him, but Peloth remains by Miniyal. Instead of physical comfort she has to settle for sharing what she can with him in his mind. And the being quite used to doing such things with her rider she finds it easy to do so with him. Poor hurt brown. Miniyal, from her spot away from the goings on, just continues to watch. Knowing better than to talk at this juncture.

A second attempt at straightening brings a back-hop from the brown. H'kon is quick to release the dragon's foot. But he stays good and close. << Flying is definitely better, >> Arekoth replies, if in a belated fashion. And it's at this point that he peers over to Peloth, and notes, in near-direct translation, << He will speak with yours. >> There's Miniyal's invite. The brown gives another half-hearted hop to adjust his balance, shifts his wings again. H'kon... scowls. Surprise.

Well, on cue, Miniyal gathers up the skirt she wears so only her boots get muddy as she walks closer towards the lake. "Sir?" is offered once she is close enough. Peloth follows along and finds a spot not in anyone's way where she can swish her tail to let it thump lightly against one of the brown's good legs. <> In case he did not interpret the tail swish thump properly.

Arekoth certainly doesn't seem to mind the thump, tilting his head to the gold again. Leave the bipeds to talk. << It's fine. I got to fly with you. My wings are still fine. My tail is still fine. We'll do it again. >> His head is tossed. If dragons could shrug... H'kon, for his part, turns that scowling face of his to Miniyal as she approaches. "Go check if there is a dragonhealer on duty." It's almost a request.

"Of course," Miniyal answers and turns to make her way across the bowl. No sir or salute, but she doesn't even seem to be trying these days for the most part. Peloth watches her for a short while before she refocuses on the brown. After all, she can keep in touch with her rider without looking at her. Peloth moves closer and presses lightly against the brown. In case he wants to lean on her or something. Her head bends to study H'kon a moment as if daring him to try to push past her again.

Arekoth is more than willing to lean back, though he doesn't do so too much. It's important to keep a sense of balance on those three good legs, after all. H'kon has got brave and has put his hands back onto the leg. Nope, no point in nudging past Peloth right now. He probably doesn't even notice the gold's inspection of him. << You should tell her thank you. He won't think to. >>

<< She knows. And she never expects thank yous even though I tell her she should. It is her due, after all. >> Peloth, of the ego is more than willing to share it with her rider. Not that Miniyal has been accused often of having none herself. She is still gone waiting to fetch a dragonhealer, likely in no rush to get back to disapproving company not that she dawdles. Peloth remains where she is and doesn't concern herself with H'kon now that he's not trying to nudge her out of the way or anything else rude. She just continues to provide quiet comfort. << She is coming back. >>

H'kon has given up with trying to get that leg straightened, and instead is running his fingers along the skin carefully. As if he's got knowledge enough to tell what's happened by feel through dragon hide. << After all, >> Arekoth agrees. That brown head swivels to try and see the entrance that Miniyal will be using. The hurt leg is given a testing flex again, and then there's another quick shot of discomfort, expressed this time as a snort. << This is stupid. >>

It will be a few minutes before Miniyal reappears with one of the dragonhealers in tow. It's not hard to see where the problem is and so that is where they will head. When they get closer Peloth will turn her gaze on the new person a moment before she resumes watching everyone and not just someone. All while continuing to provide a place to lean for the brown. << You are hurt. Let them take care of you so we can fly again. >> It's an order couched in a gentle request. Not that he has to listen to her orders, but she does like giving them.

<< Not /that/ hurt. >> Even if he's still got that leg suspended in mid-air. That dragonhealer goes about his inspection, with H'kon grudgingly moving out of the way. And hovering over the healer's shoulder as best he can, though the dragonhealer is, of course, the taller of the two. At one point, the brownrider even looks to Miniyal, and gives her a little nod. Something of a thankyou, or at least, not outright disapproval.

The nod is received with one of her own. Sometimes Miniyal knows when it is best not to talk. Peloth remains where she is while the dragonhealer looks at things although she does keep one slowly whirling eye on him. << Hurt. It will be fine, but we must humor them. It is hard work, but we have to. >> There. See? He has to humor them for his rider's sake. Not because he is overly hurt.

Arekoth releases an audible sigh as a response to Peloth, and, for a moment, leans a bit more heavily against the gold, though surely not enough to upset her balance. The dragonhealer keeps inspecting. H'kon keeps frowning. And soon enough it's communicated that a hobble to the infirmary might prove best. Arekoth takes that moment to nudge Peloth with his head, though it's an awkward thing to do, what with most nudgable spots being leaned against. <>

<< It is hard, but sometimes we must. I am sorry. As soon as you are able we will fly again. >> She straightens up and the gold gives a little nudge with her head before moving away from the brown. << Perhaps I will show you one of my tricks next time. >> Since the fun is over, despite lunch nearly being over, Miniyal and Peloth both head for the hot springs. The gold simply cannot be seen with mud on her.

Politics and klah

2007-08-06T19:00:41Z

Who: Miniyal and H'kon
Where: Living cavern
When: 10:23 on day 10, month 3, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.
What: Miniyal sits in the living cavern doing the weyrlingmaster's hidework. H'kon happens upon her and they have a nice discussion on. . .wait. They have a discussion. Not so much nice in which Miniyal asks about current events and H'kon tries not to answer and winds up hearing probably not what he wanted. Or expected.

8/6/2007

At High Reaches Weyr, it is 10:23 on day 10, month 3, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.

Breakfast is over with and lunch is not yet arrived so the living cavern is quiet. Well, quieter than it might be during a meal time. With the rain pouring outside in typical spring fashion there's a lot of people doing what they can indoors today. Near the fire is the usual collection of old aunties sipping their klah fortified with something stronger as they knit and chatter loudly about how things were different in their day. Near the kitchen a table is filled with kitchen workers taking a break between meals. Other than that everyone is relatively quiet. Especially Miniyal whose seated alone at a table near the entrance, no one likes sitting there because of the damp draft, with a stack of hides. One leg is propped up on a chair opposite the one she sits on and the boot rests on the floor by it. She seems to have found a sure fire way to get out of physical training today judging by the bandage on her ankle. So, she sits in here sipping klah, chewing on pastries, and doing hidework.

Quiet living caverns are H'kon's favourite kind, and so it's not too much of a surprise that he's here. What might be a surprise is that the brownrider is standing near those old aunties at the fire. He seems mostly overcome by the chattering, but after a moment of cautious conversation navigation, a few balls of wool exchange hands - red and brown swapped for a dull yellow and dark green - and the wingsecond takes his leave, working one-handed at opening a bag slung over his shoulder as he goes. Nearing the exit, however, he has to stop to stow his knitting supplies. And this is inevitably what makes him aware of Miniyal, the oddity sitting near the drafts. The general situation is sized up, and he murmurs, "Duties for the weyrlingmaster," in something akin to approval. If he's right about the hidework, anyway.

The pen stops moving and Miniyal lifts her head to find H'kon. She gives a little nod of her head and then gestures towards where her foot is propped up. "Slipped. Sprained my ankle so couldn't do anything else while everyone else does PT. Can't work in the office because he has meetings and couldn't walk to records." Way more information than he probably wanted or needed to know. Reaching for her mug she looks over to where the aunties are. "Trolling for a new girlfriend, sir?" she teases before taking a drink.

"I am sorry to hear you are hurt," H'kon notes in very much the same tone he'd used to get the old women by the hearths to be quiet long enough for the trade to be arranged. That bit of an edge gets to stay in his voice, courtesy of Miniyal's tease. "I am making a blanket." It's said with enough indignation that H'kon probably misses any element of the ridiculous in the statement. The remaining ball of wool is carefully tucked into the bag, which he closes up defensively with a tug of the drawstring. Hmph.

"See, I keep thinking you're going to develop a sense of humor." Miniyal shakes her head and reaches for a half-eaten pastry. "Want one? I promise not to tease you about anything else. Well, probably not." And, just to prove she's a liar she chews and swallows what she's bitten off before she mentions casually, "I heard Peloth was going to ask Arekoth to show her some new tricks today. Have a seat. I'm nearly done anyway. A child could do this. A child, but apparently not our weyrlingmaster."

"Well you clearly do not know me." Eyes go a bit wider for a moment, and then H'kon is back to looking like his old, stick-in-the-mud self. The pastry that Miniyal eats is eyed dubiously, and the brownrider gives his head a shake, all the while lifting one arm to prod idly at the shoulder of the other. "I am certain your weyrlingmaster is very capable. Perhaps it is just a way to keep you focused on the appropriate material." The bag is then adjusted over his shoulder, and he otherwise ignores talk of Peloth and Arekoth.

Licking her fingers off before wiping them on her pants leg Miniyal takes up her pen once more to return to her work. "No, he sucks at it, sir. It was a mess." Shaking her head she peers into her cup and lets out a little sigh. "Damn. Out." Down goes the pen again and she carefully pulls her foot down off the chair it was resting on. "So, are you going to ask for a transfer? Or is the promotion going to have you sticking around?" Carefully standing up she winces slightly before picking up her cup.

H'kon watches the woman through narrowed eyes, still full of distrust, it would seem, even after such a long acquaintance. Filled with annoyances and arguing. "What reason have I been given to ask for a transfer?" is questioned snappily, the suggestion clearly not taken in any sort of flattering light. And at her wince, H'kon gives a firm order of, "Sit down, weyrling," all the while making a snatch for that cup.

With such a polite and caring attitude how can she do anything but sit back down. Miniyal hands over her cup and sits back down, foot going back up on the chair. "We can talk when you come back, sir. Nothing in it, sir. Thank you very much." She's so gracious, isn't she? And probably hardly engineered this whole thing in the first place. "Oh, you could just bring back a pitcher. That would be very kind of you. Thank you." While he fetches she takes up her pen to do some more work.

H'kon bristles just a little bit, letting his pack fall to a chair, and taking a firmer hold on that cup. "I will bring you a cup of klah with nothing added." And then he's pivoting on his heel, and marching off to do the fetching with as much of his dignity as he has left. Time enough is taken to find a pitcher at a reasonable temperature, though the pickings are slim - what he does, he does well. And then it's back to the table, walking ab it more carefully so as not to slosh the drink, and depositing the cup in front of Miniyal.

Miniyal's been busy while he was gone and the stack of completed work is several hides thicker than it was before. "Thank you, sir." How polite she is being. Well, every now and again. "So, please, sit down. We'll talk. Unless you're in a hurry? I mean, you can surely sit and humor me for a short while. I haven't even got to congratulate you." Setting her pen down she takes up her cup for a sip.

H'kon gives some serious thought to the proposal, but in the end, moves his bag so that he can sit in the place it had only recently occupied. "A short while," is repeated, almost cautionary. "There are things I must accomplish before evening." But presumably nothing scheduled The bag is put on the ground, leaning up against one of his boots, and he looks pointedly to the goldrider. And to those hides. And says nothing. No conversation-starter, is H'kon.

"Wonderful. I was getting tired of hidework and this will be a nice break for me." Miniyal moves her pen and settles her cup right in front of her. She adjusts it this way and that and then leaves it be, wrapping both her hands around it for warmth. "I was just wondering, sir. You've always seemed the staid and traditional sort of man. High Reaches is rather not in favor with anyone at this point because we didn't rain fire down on Five Mines. It seemed like it wasn't the sort of environment you'd be happy in is all."

H'kon pushes himself back up against the back of his chair. "It... Arekoth was hatched here. We are not so disloyal as to run at inaction. Our... lives are here." And he's set to drumming his fingertips rhythmically along the edge of the table. A deep frown follows, he peers out toward the bowl, and then peers back to the goldrider. "That is not much in the way of congratulations." Attempted subject change.

Lifting up her cup for a sip when Miniyal sets it back down she reaches for a pastry and takes a bite so she can chew as she listens to him talk. "No, I suppose it's not. Congratulations on your promotion, sir. I'm sure you will do an admirable job. I was just curious how you felt about things. I mean, wingsecond. That's an important spot to be in and if you were feeling disloyal to High Reaches it was something I should know about. Future leader and all." Her nose wrinkles up and she grins wryly before taking another bite. "You could do a lot of good here, see? Or you could cause trouble even without trying. It's important to know where things stand."

H'kon nods his head to that, still drumming at that table, a discernable pattern forming as fingers moving, working from the outside to the inside of his hands, always with a return tap from the index finger between each motion. "I am please you are taking your future position more seriously," is added, almost with a bit of pride. As if he'd had something to do with it, maybe.

"Oh, I'm planning a take over of the Weyr, you know, sir. I'm going to rule with an iron fist and all that." Miniyal grins wryly as she speaks before taking another bite, finishing off the pastry. Again she licks her fingers and wipes them off on her pants leg. "That or I've decided to do more than I need to. I /am/ just going to be a junior weyrwoman after all. For the rest of my life. No sense getting carried away and all. However, I won't be stuck forever where I am now. Even if it seems like it. So, what do you think of what's going on?"

H'kon has, at this stage of their interaction, learned not to take Miniyal all too seriously with most of what she says. Or at least, not to do so openly. The brownrider simply nods, and increases the speed of his finger-drumming. "I think the weyrleaders must have good cause for their hesitation," he offers back after a moment of consideration. "And my focus should be on keeping the wing organised during a Fall." 'And nothing much beyond that' remains unsaid.

Once she's set her cup down again Miniyal shakes her head and smiles faintly. "I'm afraid, sir, that you can't do that anymore. You're a wingsecond. If something happened to I'valo you'd be the one to take over until someone else were picked. That means you /have/ to start doing more than just 'yes, sir or no, sir' now." Folding her hands between the cup and herself she twists her ring around on her finger. "So, if you want to maintain your rank or even move above it you have to change the way you think. And do things. Otherwise you're better off going back to being a wingrider so no one depends on you more than anyone else." Harsh, perhaps, but her tone remains calm and quiet.

H'kon narrows his eyes just a little bit at the goldrider. "There is surely good reason for the hesitation." And then he's clammed up in true H'kon fashion. Those fingers have stopped their drumming on the table, in favour of clamping down on the edge. A glance goes to the goldrider's hides, to the cup she's got before her, and finally up to Miniyal herself. Nevermind rank, H'kon looks for all the world like he's waiting to be dismissed.

"Think about what I've said, wingsecond. If you're not willing to make some changes then you might consider speaking to your wingleader or the weyrleader about where you stand here." Miniyal takes up her cup and has a drink from it before setting it back down. Reaching for her pen she pulls it and a hide in front of her. Reading it for a moment she looks up again and blinks at H'kon before smiling ever so briefly. "Don't let me keep you. Thank you very much for the klah, sir. I'm sure I'll see you around."

H'kon grinds his chair across the floor, then stands. The bag is secured roughly from the ground, and Miniyal gets a sharp nod. "I hope your ankle heals quickly," is pushed out from between barely-opened lips. And he wastes no further time in taking his leave.

All the little dears.

2007-08-06T03:39:17Z

Who: Reyce and Wistella (NPC)
Where: Nursery
When: Late afternoon at the beginning of month 3.
What: Reyce has to come pick up his spawn. He gets to talk to Wistella and deal with the chaos that is the nursery. (Watch Reyce be terrorized!!!)

8/5/2007

The nursery is a busy place always. Even in the middle of the night which it is not right now. Instead it is late in the afternoon, but not quite evening. Children run around screaming loudly and are left to do just that for the most part. Here and there some resident or rider shows up to pick up their kid for the evening. Sometimes the kid goes quietly and other times they don't want to leave and create an argument that in one case involves throwing a block at mom's head. In the middle of all the chaos is Wistella who presides over it with an amused smile. The antics of children always amuse her and they're just getting the craziness out of their system so all is well. The only quiet spot is the smaller room off to one side where rows of cribs and a couple of rocking chairs hold sway. In here are mostly sleeping babies although some of them are demanding a diaper change or something to eat with loud, earnest screams.

Usually it's the mother who's in charge of picking up the kid at the end of the day, but today, little Asherei's father shows up. She has been a trial during her stay here, waking (and wailing) frequently enough on her own, and joining the other children in their cries when they wake up, as well. It's not hard to see where she got that sensitivity towards sound, as Reyce hasn't even walked through the door yet before his expression becomes one of alarm as he surveys the gleeful chaos of the big kids' room. The Bendenite presses his lips together, pointedly silent himself, and scans the nannies in the room to see which one is holding his daughter. He doesn't even look at the side room: clearly, he's never been here before.

One of talents learned through a lifetime of working in the nursery is when to recognize someone out of place. So, Wistella stops mediating between a pair of kids, siblings by the looks of them, who are fighting over a stuffed dog. Now she bustles on over to that lost father with a wide smile and merry eyes. She easily sidesteps running kids, toys, the remains of what looks to have been a cookie once although when she sees that she does call out, "Jo, come clean this up." And lo, one of the other nannies hurries over. "You're a new one," greets Reyce as she brightens the wattage of her smile. "Which of the little darlings is yours?"

In the jumble that is the nursery, at least as Reyce understands it, someone moving with purpose and direction shines like the North Star. His eyes find Wistella as soon as she starts walking toward him, and though his survey of her arms - empty - soon reveals that she's not bringing him his daughter, watches her expectantly. Surely she knows where the daughter is. "Asherei," he answers, leaning a glance past her to give the room another scan. It's as fruitless a search now as it was when he walked into the place, what with Asha in the other room, so afterwards he's left to just look back at Wistella and lift his brows slightly.

"Oh! Asherei's daddy! It's so good to meet you. We all just love her to death she's so darling!" Yes, most of Wistella's comments are filled with such energy and enthusiasm they must end in an exclamation mark. "Oh, she's not out here, dear." She must have noticed the look around the room because she chuckles and gestures with her arm to that little side room. "She'll be back here with the other babies. Mercy, we wouldn't leave them poor little babies out here with the terrors!" Fondly she speaks of the terrors, but that would be what they look like. "You're so lucky to have such a pretty girl. Takes after her mother. Just come this way, dear." And lucky Reyce he gets led across the sea of kids towards where the one he wants is located.

The enthusiasm knocks Reyce back a step, as though it were a physical wind he had to brace his leg to withstand. Or maybe it's just the word 'daddy' applied to himself; that certainly startles a blink out of him. "She -" but before he can attempt to say anything about Asha or the gushing comments she receives, Wistella's off on another subject and on the path towards his kid. "Okay," he mumbles as he picks his way forward, clearly uncomfortable around the other so-called 'terrors' and careful to give them and their toys a wide berth that makes him especially slow and awkward in following the nanny.

He can try to give them a wide berth, but kids know when someone doesn't want them around and they flock to that person. So, several of the kids ranging in age from four to seven make sure they're right up close to the path Wistella leads Reyce along. Several of them wave to the man and one little boy with grubby looking hands runs up and tries to grab at his leg. Likely some sort of dare. Kids giggle and watch the new guy. "You just remember next time we keep the babies in the side room and you just tell em who you need to get and it'll be done right as rain." Wistella looks over her shoulder and beams another smile at Reyce as she slows down when a gaggle of kids run right past her. She has to wait for them to pass before she can move again.

Someone has lulled those children into the false impression that they are cute and people like them. Reyce is here to dispel that impression. The waves are quietly ignored, but as soon as one runs up to him with the clear intention of touching him for a dare, the Bendenite turns a low growl on him and yanks his leg out of the way. He leaves the kid behind in the next stride - someone else can deal with him - but his expression is still one of distaste when Wistella turns to shine her next smile on him. This time it's an irritated, rather than intimidated, father that looks back at her, but he's still got enough restraint not to train his newfound hostility on her. "'ll remember," he agrees with a resigned huff. That gaggle of kids that slowed Wistella has allowed him to catch up to her, and while the last of them are passing (holding him in place) he remembers to add a mumbled, "Thanks."

"Oh, there's no need to thank me at all, dear. This is what I do. Oh. I'm Wistella. Been head nanny here forever and a day but I'm always so happy to meet new parents. And their little dearlings." Wistella pauses outside the door and turns as there's a loud crash and a scream. "Oh, Neffie." Looking at Reyce she smiles brilliantly. "Neffie is such a dear, but she's so full of herself. And likes to make things crash. Gets it from her mother whom I had in here as well." Before stepping inside she casts one more look around the room and then tells Reyce, "Shush now." As if he's said a lot already. Into the screaming baby room they go.

Reyce thins his eyes into a squint, watching Wistella brush so airily through the screams and crashes going on behind him. That she orders him to shush, when there are screaming children outside and screaming babes within, only narrows his eyes further, confusion evident in the sliver of his gaze still visible. So his nod is delayed while he considers all these factors, but he does nod at her finally and step silently into the room, where he immediately resumes his scan for Asha.

Asha will be found not in a crib, but in the arms of one of the junior nannies rocking her and singing to her quietly. Asha appears to be dozing off and on. Wistella steps aside once she's in the room so that Reyce will not have trouble finding his darling little girl. After all, that's what he is here to do. She just smiles merrily and watches the father/daughter reunion. Without even warning the other nanny what a grump he has been.

And what a grump he will continue to be, for the second Reyce finds his daughter any trace of etiquette is forgotten as he strides towards her and takes her from the junior nanny's arms. The poor young woman probably feels the need to defend her charge, especially when Asha responds with a long bleat of discomfort now she's been jarred from her nap, but Reyce is not to be denied and has had enough practice taking Asha from her mother that he has the movement down to a swift art. She's gone before her erstwhile comforter can so much as call out "Hey," the protest in the word dampened by the Quiet Rule that holds sway in this room. "I'm her father," Reyce tells the woman sharply, his harsh tone provoking another bleat from Asha, who begins to wave around her tiny fists and winds up beating him in the chest. Wistella will have plenty to witness, though, and gush about if she chooses; the hardened Bendenite becomes a doll for his baby girl, letting her punch and cry at him all she likes while he cradles her close to his body, his eyes skimming quickly over the tiny form to make sure she was well looked after during her time at this strange place.

The poor junior nanny does indeed try to complain, but the words quiet her. She starts to rise even, stopping when Wistella gives her a little sign that all is good. Instead she settles back into her rocker and enjoys a moment of no-baby holding. It doesn't happen often after all. Wistella watches father and daughter together with a careful eye. Turns and turns of practice allow her to make clear decisions on her observations and decide, well, whatever it is she has decided. Nothing keeps her from smiling however and certainly daddy and baby makes her smile. "She's just adorable. And she sure loves her daddy. Don't you, baby? You sure love your daddy." She coos all of this from a few feet away, but she doesn't need to be /in/ space to invade her. Her personality does that for her. Tries to wrap up everyone in the same sugar coating she lives in.

There's that word again, and not just once. Daddy. Wistella's words drag Reyce little by little up from his examination, first his chin lifting, then even turning towards her, and finally his eyes leaving the angry red face beneath him to find the smiling one a few feet away. The angry one was easier for him, as Wistella's boundless sugar-coating seems to unnerve him. He eyes her now, scanning her bright, endless smile for some hint of sarcasm that he can't seem to find. "She's good," he answers gruffly, clearly at something of a loss as to what one says, if one should say anything at all when it's the kid being addressed. One thumb rubs at Asha's cheek to keep her occupied - indeed, the stroking finger becomes the focus of her wrath, as she grabs and squeezes it in a tiny fist, trapping it by her mouth while her forehead remains fiercely wrinkled in the aftermath of her tears.

"Oh! Oh, before I forget. Some dropped the most darling little thing off for her. Let me just get it." Wistella bundles off towards the crib that was occupied, one can guess, by Asha earlier. From the crib she pulls out a little stuffed cow. Bringing it over she holds it out so either Reyce or Asha can grab it. "She was sleeping so good with it and it's just darling, isn't it?" More smiling occurs and from outside the room the sounds of chaos seem to be lessening. Clearly children are departing since the banging and screaming seems to be coming less and less. The former Asha holding nanny gets up to go pick up a recently awakened baby and carry him back to the same rocker.

Father and daughter watch the approaching cow in silence, the former warily and the latter with detached curiosity. Asha probably doesn't recognize it yet, having spent most of her time with it with her eyes closed. Reyce finally disengages his thumb from her grip and reaches out for the cow, though he places it in the other hand, the one that's nearer to his daughter's rump than to her face, so she won't notice it. "Don't know that it isn't dirty," he explains, his wariness now transferred to Wistella. Dirty cow provider. "Who put it in?"

Watching the taking and partial rejection of the cow Wistella shakes her head. "Oh, come on now. She's been sleeping with it all day. And we made sure it was fine. Really, don't be silly. We are quite aware of how to do our job." She nearly tsks and only verbally rubs one finger atop the other. Wistella wouldn't actually do that physically. When he asks who the dirty cow provider was she blinks and scratches her head. "Oh. I can't for the life of me remember what her name was. She was adorable. Around my age. Oh, really. Don't be like that! It's an adorable little cow and she loves it. If you don't want to take it with you then we can certainly hold it here for her. But, mind my words, she'll miss it and start to cry."

Phyiscally enacted or not, Reyce gets the idea behind the tsking finger tone and gradually firms up his lower jaw into a stubborn set. "Don't know who they are then don't want Asha playing with it." His decision is made, and he shifts the girl more comfortably against his chest as the arm holding the cow unwinds itself and sticks the object out at Wistella. "She's got her own toys, can bring one with her, we bring her here tomorrow. Probably just missed holding something." So the cow isn't significant, he's guessing. He gives it a little twitch if Wistella hasn't taken it already, to motivate her to do that now.

If he doesn't want it then Wistella will take the cow back and waggle it at Reyce. "First time daddies are always so over-protective. It's the most adorable thing. You just wait, daddy. By the third or fourth you'll have it all down pat and not be worried about a thing!" Smiling warmly she nods her head several times encouragingly. "Anyway, I'd better let you get her off then. She'll be wanting her dinner soon and she does cry when she's hungry. Good set of lungs on her. Gets it from her mother I imagine." Smile, dimple, waggle the cow back and forth. "We'll all see you again soon I am sure! Good-bye little adorable sweet baby." Clearly addressed to Asha. Reyce gets another smile and she wiggles her fingers. "You and mommy have a good night, daddy!" Reyce will be left to see himself off as she is going to go get to what she needs to do. Part of which will be have a little nip from the flask in her pocket.

Between frequent repeats of the word 'daddy' and the idea of a third or fourth kid, Wistella proves definitively that she has a knack for saying things Reyce doesn't want to hear. The stubborn jaw fades into something more concerned, if faintly so, and when Wistella starts nodding and smiling her way off, he seems entirely willing to let her go. A quick, sharp nod serves as his farewell, then the nanny's gone, Asha's staring at him, and he has to brush back through the kid-crowded outer room on his way to locate Asha's dinner.

The future

2007-08-04T02:47:17Z

Who: Miniyal and R'vain
Where: Records Room
When: Middle of the night on day 4, month 3, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.
What: Miniyal retreats to familiar comforts alone in the middle of the night. Her peace is interrupted by the arrival of the Weyrleader and she offers assistance.

8/3/2007

At High Reaches Weyr, it is the middle of the night on day 4, month 3, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.

In the still of the night. . .Well, the Records Room has always been a quiet place in the middle of the night. These days even more so as with all the turmoil in the world people are less enthused about researching much of anything. Especially when they could be drinking or sleeping or what have you. Miniyal has come back home, as it were, and haunts the Records Room nearly every night. She's supposed to take a fellow weyrling with her, but it's not like she follows the rules. Tonight she doesn't anyway. When she comes here it is usually to work. Writing up things she has no time for during the day. However, the writing is done now and she seems uninterested in reading anything and so sits at a table where she can watch the door without being close to it. Scrap hide is on the table before her and she every now and again will dip a nearby pen into ink and draw lines on it. Life carries on around her and the only change between this Miniyal and the one who spent turns doing this up until not so long ago is that every now and again this one has to pause to wipe a black sleeve across her eyes.

R'vain's footfalls are like they are almost always: heavy, loud. They pause on the far side of the records room door, then the door creaks open and those footfalls come through. The door creaks shut, and there's a moment's silence.

In the tight quarters and low light of the records room, with the walls closing in and the air thin and stale, there's no room for anything else one's terrified of. Just the one thing, all-consuming. It's a relief, really. A chance to be one-minded.

The Weyrleader sucks in a chest-swelling breath and heaves it out as a sigh. His boots move again. He prowls slowly between tables, around a catty-wompus chair which he pushes into place with a careless motion of an enormous paw, down the ends of the stacks. He doesn't dare the paths down those stacks. He barely sees what's before him, but he must see enough to make out the shape of Miniyal at a table with her pen and ink. The red man rumbles a low warning, not ungentle, and is looking down those undesireable dark courseways between the shelves as he passes them by after that; looking elsewhere as he approaches, in case she should look up.

Normally she's more aware of her surroundings. But it's records in the middle of the night and it's become her cocoon. Miniyal retreats from everything here and focuses on whatever task she's assigned her brain to the exclusion of all else. That must be why when it does register that someone is coming he's had a chance to make it to the table before her head comes up. And then she blinks. And then she blinks again and rubs her eyes and peers around. "I know I'm not sleeping so this can't be a nightmare, but either way I'm not sitting in your lap." Her voice is quiet, like always, quieter because she's in records mode which involves near silence. "Do I need to go?" Who knows why he would come here. Likely some indecent nefarious purpose. As she asks the question she looks down at the current scrap of hide she's working with. An outline of a map of something.

"Ain't planning on putting you there." But R'vain will not otherwise, apparently, spare Miniyal the torment of his near presence. He rounds the end of her table behind her, moving a little quicker and not /too/ close, heading for the chair around the corner from hers rather than directly across. He pulls back that chair with the same careless paw that tucked in one on the other side of the room, and looks down as if he's surprised by what his hand's just done. "Nah, y'fine." His gaze slinks up from the seat of the chair to the edge of the table, then across to the hide before the woman. "Goin' somewhere?"

She doesn't watch him as he moves around the table. Instead she focuses on what she's doing which is gathering up scraps of hides. "Got nowhere to go. Unless you're going to send me somewhere." Miniyal looks over once he's seated and blinks away a moment's flash of concern that is out of place after all. "Is something wrong? I don't recall this being your favorite place." Now a pause and she finds some teasing to add to her tone. "We don't carry many picture books."

"Ain't." Going to send her somewhere. Or it ain't his favorite place. R'vain's shoulders lift and roll in indifference and he steps around so he can slump into the chair he's chosen. Academic, dry and wooden, the chair loses its identity entirely, dwarfed by the small giant it now holds. "All kinds of shit wrong," he notes, still staring at the map-thing Miniyal's been adding lines to; then he glances up at her, eyes wide and open and green. This is brief; they narrow sharply, turn keen and emerald, and his wide mouth thins. "Ain't that joke old yet?"

"I read in a book that people retreat to familiar things when their life is in crisis. That is brings comfort." Miniyal leaves it unsaid if she's trying to comfort him or her. Because clearly it would be her. "Sorry. I'd have come up with something better, but my heart's not in it anymore." Setting her pen down atop the hides she folds her hands and stares down at them. Maybe if she pretends he's not here he'll go away or something. Or not. "Umm. Did you want to talk about it? Or something."

"If y'heart was ever in it I'll take it as some kind of backhanded compliment." R'vain widens his knees and plants his paws upon them, then pulls the chair forward with himself in it by power of his legs. The chair's feet make low scraping noises on the floor, but it's the middle of the night: who's here to shush him? "Yeah." Not that he begins, after this confession. Instead: "That why you're makin' a map? Familiar, I mean. Comfort."

Looking at her little maps there's nearly a nod of her head. "Can't drink. Can't sleep. Tired of-" Something. Miniyal rolls her eyes and finds some kind of smile that shows up for a moment and then disappears into the gloom. "Shush." Habits. "I suppose teasing you about wanting the job and this is what you get would be out of place right now?"

"Naw. It'd be right as rain. Pointless, though, thought've it a few hundred times a'ready." R'vain shrugs again and looks back down from Miniyal to her maps, brows furrowing slowly, lethargically, the only part of him more tired than charged with the nervous electricty of the pointlessly outraged and afraid. "What I /want/ t'do is gather up you and th'lil'Weyrwoman and a couple of th'men t'th'Tinwright and never come back any th'lot of us, but I don't figure we'd get off with it."

"Well, it could be worse." Miniyal offers this will little actual belief in her voice. Followed by a shake of her head as she adjusts her position just enough to almost be watching the weyrleader. "It could be worse," is offered again with something that sounds as if she believes it now. "Oh, please. You'd leave me behind. Figured it served em right whoever came to have to deal with me. I'd make them wish they'd never set foot in my home whoever would come." She would too. Just by being herself. There's some small comfort or something.

"Suppose if you volunteered it like that I'd leave you..." The Weyrleader would have said more, even if just to complete the sentence, but his gaze slips past Miniyal and her maps into the distance for a moment, and when it snaps back into focus his mouth is downturned, slivers of white teeth bared. "I tell you what, if they barge in here I'm goin' t'have fire and knives waiting for 'em. Fuck. Min'yal," and now he looks at her directly again, "Fuck. It /can't/ be worse, can it? Not without bein' untenable. Why's it so-- damned-- quiet?!" It's not quiet just then, of course; his fist hits the table on 'quiet' and defies the very meaning of the word. But the echo's absorbed by the stacks and the table, old but sturdy, quavers for only a split-second before standing firm again, and it is, in the middle of the night in the records room, quiet.

He's watched again and there's a thoughtful look in her eyes. "Fuck, R'vain. I wouldn't expect anything else. They try to come in here fuck them all. My home is all I have." Miniyal shifts in her chair somewhat when he looks at her. While she seems comfortable enough almost watching him it's not the same at all if he focuses on her. "It can always be worse. That's what I tell myself when I feel like dying. That it could always be worse so I shouldn't quit now." Please to be ignoring a slight break in her voice in there somewhere. "So, make some noise. Let them know we're here and we don't approve. Why wait for their move? Preemptive strike."

"You got people." R'vain's focus sharpens again, from the broader perspective that encompasses Miniyal specifically to the features of her face; his eyes search hers, but look away after a moment as if to spare her the need of doing so herself. "You," he says, but stops, looking at her maps. "What kind?"

"It's not important." Her, clearly as she slips it in before he looks away. "Go public. With anything and everything. Hammer them with everything we have on any of them. None of them clean." Miniyal looks at the little map and shakes her head. "S'lien. Every hold that sent guards to watch the Instigators and never thought to see if maybe they were doing things they shouldn't. Don't go for the people in the Grand Conclave. Not the ones making the decisions. Their heirs. The ones who want their power. Turn them against each other. We don't need support right now so much as we need them distracted. Remind them how things have been going. First they toss out Odern in secrecy. Now this. What's next? /Who's/ next? Which one of them will be turned on?" Coming to a stop she blinks. "Sorry."

"S'lien's done. But--" He needn't go so far as to say that the rest of what she suggests has merit. R'vain's eyes narrow; a keen vengeful thoughtfulness says it for him. They slowly come back to Miniyal, to looking at her, not too closely. The Weyrleader draws breath, swelling his chest, and lets it out slowly through flared nostrils, soft. "We ain't going t'get their support," he says, lowly. "But I don't want t'piss off th'heirs. I want t'win 'em." His eyes are emerald slits now, framed by lurid lashes, brilliant in contrast. His tongue wraps up over his upper teeth and slips soundlessly back again. "But that's exactly how t'do it. Let 'em hear. Let 'em know everything. And when support f'their fathers starts t'fade, we'll kick 'em out."

Hands rest on the table so nervous ring twisting can commence. "I know he's done. But I still think he deserves to be outed. Fucker." Biting her lip Miniyal glances down at her hands. "You're going to have competition, you know. Everyone's favorite headmaster is already trying to take over the world." Her head tilts to one side and she smiles briefly. "Of course, he doesn't have me so is doomed to fail. Of course you'll need someone to talk to these people. Or at least get the right records to them. Wait." Something registers suddenly in her brain and she sits up straighter and just stares at the redhead. "You like my plan? You don't think it's wrong or too sneaky or something?"

"Sefton ain't my competition, he's missin' something y'need f'my job." But R'vain's brows furrow; the deeper implications of the headmaster's plausible ambitions are, perhaps surprisingly, not entirely lost on him. He does, after a moment, reiterate, "He don't got t'be competition t'me," and this time the statement is a thoughtful one, cogs clicking. The Weyrleader is a little distant before realizing there was more to what Miniyal's been saying; he looks up from her maps, to which his gaze had once more drifted. "No. Yeah. I like it fine. But you ain't goin' t'be th'mouthpiece. Just a junior, and biased t'th'Reaches." And suddenly there's light in his eyes, so bright and cruel that it forces his lashes wide and a turn or two of his age is peeled back by the opening of his expression. "We'll use their competitors."

"Even I didn't think you were dumb enough to use me." Miniyal's eyes roll and she watches the monster she's helped take his first little baby steps. And then something else registers and she shakes her head. "Not him. R'vain, you can't- nevermind. Nevermind. I just have the ideas, that's all. Not my job to do them. I'm sorry, you know." Conversational subject shifts are expected, yes? "For being a bitch and always giving you a hard time. That's just. . .anyway. Like I said, get the ones in power to not trust each other or anyone and they screw up. They screw up someone takes advantage of it. You just have to make sure it's someone who looks favorably on us."

R'vain leans forward, putting up an elbow onto the edge of the table, paw hanging off. "No," he says, eyes narrowing, normalizing. "Ain't what I mean. -- Him who? -- No. Every Weyr, every Hold, every Hall's got someone waiting. A me, Min'yal. Or better'n me, I hope. An E'sere," and for that revelation he makes a face, like the exiled bronzer's name tasted pretty bad. "We get the information to them. Put the power in their hands. Play it to the public after that. Need someone who's willing t'take on Harper." Still looking at his junior, the Weyrleader falls silent, tongue lathing his lips and then slipping behind them.

Hands pulled back into her lap where she can twist her ring unseen Miniyal looks across the room at nothing. "Harper politics are so weird. I know someone there who could probably offer assistance and at least let us know what's going on. Who's doing what and the like. I write to him all the time so it's not going to draw any attention if I contact him for you and see if he would be willing." Blinking and lifting a hand to push hair from her eyes she nods once. "If you get out of line, of course, in all this I'll be forced to take action. I mean, that goes without saying." This time her pause is more thoughtful as the ring goes round and round. "What do you want to happen at Five Mines? Why didn't you do anything before?"

"Write him, then," is easy for R'vain to say, to slip in there before Miniyal changes tracks from Harper assistance to moderate threats. At the moderate threat the Weyrleader straightens his back, elbow slipping off of the table, and blinks-- and then another question comes before he can get out much of a reply besides a surprised little grunt. "Five Mines," he says, as if he has to head the topic with a title. "Sort out refugees from real criminals and handle 'em each by turns. S'what I /want./ What I /could do/ then-- " He looks at her maps, suddenly, the first time that he turns his gaze away in order to hide his own eyes, not to spare hers. Much more quietly of a sudden, he goes on. "-- I didn't do, because I had too much t'lose."

"I'll get a letter out tomorrow." Just like that. Well, the one thing she is good at is writing letters after all. She watches his reaction to his other words with a neutral expression as if Miniyal could care less what he decides about anything. "It's all right you know. To not do something. Even if it turns out it was a mistake. We all make mistakes. Sometimes the mistake is made when you do nothing. Sometimes when you do anything." The last sentence is one of those that doesn't have to be anything but simple because it's clear she speaks from personal experience. Done, at least for now, with tossing out one question after another she settles into silence and staring across the room.

"It ain't all right," rumbles R'vain, remorselessly. Nor is he resigned. He looks up, grinning, to find that Miniyal's looking elsewhere; he grins at her anyway. "But s'done. Ain't goin' t'go back and muck with it. Now-- " His chin comes up and in an uncharacteristic way he looks at her down the bend of his nose, brows lowering. "What d'you mean, bout me getting out of line? What line you got in mind?"

Miniyal's attention remains on the room around her. The silence and the dark and the smell that were not welcoming to the Weyrleader wrap her up like a blanket and keep her safe. "Nothing," she answers without even turning to look at him. He does get a shake of her head between one statement and the next. "Old habit. Sometimes things just slip out and don't mean anything. I'm not going to cause trouble. Give you my word on it."

"No. Things slip out but they mean something, that's th'first thing 'bout you." R'vain bends forward again, using a bend of his knees to drag his chair a little closer to the table so he can prop his elbow farther onto the surface this time, and crutch his chin in his palm. "Min'yal, I got t'know. What line?"

"Why? I said I wouldn't cause trouble. I'm not going to stab you in the back." Miniyal blinks and refocuses on what's close. Table, maps, ring, R'vain. "What exactly do you think you will be doing that you need to know?" But he doesn't get time to answer. Instead she closes her eyes a moment and then speaks. "Don't turn into them. Don't work so hard to defeat something that you become what you were fighting against."

"I dunno, because I got no idea-- " But then she's speaking, and spoken, and R'vain sinks back into the embrace (inadequate as it is) of his chair, arms folding. His expression is mixed, brows furrowed, one corner of his mouth twitching like the threat of a smile. Inhale. Exhale. No smile comes out. "What /am/ I, Min'yal, y'figure?"

"What are you? An ass. But I've told you that already repeatedly and you're bored of my best lines." There's a little sigh as if it's so much work. For Miniyal it is always so much work to carry on a conversation. One booted foot kicks at the stone underneath with a scuffed toe. It serves the fidgeting requirement as she's got her hands folded still in her lap.

"Min--" He does not mean to nickname her; it's just that he begins a protest using her name as its form, and gives up protesting before more than one syllable's accomplished. He sighs, too, heavily and largely, then picks up his chin. "Should get sleep," he rumbles, palms on the table's surface but not yet pressed down in the manner of one getting up, not yet. "Try t'make a plan for goin' t'th'hold." Is there any question what hold he means?

"Yea. I should, I don't know. Sit here some more. A pleasure talking to you, sir." He gets no sarcasm, but there's been very little of it tonight anyway. Miniyal's just off her game and everyone suffers for it. A shame. A tragedy. Since he's announced his departure she doesn't have to move and so doesn't. Other than to breath. Since she's not dead and all.

It might be up for debate. "Min'yal," he growls, though the growl is a complaint more than a warning, like the growl of a worried beast too fond of its troubled carekeeper. Up and down he looks her and lets out a huff of steam through flared nostrils; for lack of better entre he asks, "What're th'maps?"

Looking down at the scraps of hide is a good excuse to not look anywhere else. "The hold." If he won't name it Miniyal won't either. "Talked to people who'd been there. Lived there or had family and such. Piecing them together. Can't guarantee accuracy without going there myself. Surrounding area as best as it is remembered." One finger taps the scrap on the top. "Just trying to stay busy, sir. Trying to hold on."

R'vain looks at the maps some more, now that he knows what they are, or what they should be. "If I wake up thinkin' this wasn't a dream--" And now he does get to his feet, pressing himself up with those palms readied on the table's surface, a small pop sounded somewhere in his lower back. "-- we're all goin' t'be busy enough soon, I can't help but figure. And holdin' on like th'wind ain't never blown."

"Yes, well, it's just-" Stopping here she shakes her head and pulls the scraps closer. "Don't get too excited. I didn't find too many people. I thought we might have a map in here, but we don't. It's possibly inaccurate. If I could go there. . ." But she can't. And wouldn't try because it's not her way at all. "Busy is subjective. I'm sorry, sir. You were trying to leave. I didn't mean to keep you."

"Ain't about those, Min'yal. You keep finding people, make 'em th'best you can f'now." R'vain unhands the table and slips out from between it and his chair, tucking the latter in with that same careless motion. "You don't forget," he remarks, airily. "What I said before. Little at a time. I know some of those men, seconds and also-flews. I got t'sleep. Got t'be ready t'talk." He winks. /Winks./ Half-nods to her, and turns to start his slow, careful (as if the shelves, the tables, the walls might fall in upon him) walk out.

She sits still and waits for him to leave. There's a little nod as if he only nodded and there was no wink. It's only when the Weyrleader has left records that Miniyal shoves scraps of hide aside so there's room for her to fold her arms and rest her head on them. Easy to sit still and easy enough once her eyes are dry to take up her work again.

Doesn't have to be.

2007-07-31T23:07:48Z

So, I kept trying to find this to write. Not the exact scene, but something like it. Because Roa kept saying she wanted to see Peloth give Miniyal a talking to. Although it is not much of one. :) Anyway, vague attempts to try to get Miss Broken High Reaches Every Turn a wee bit better before it's too late. ;) I have to do something. *sniffles* None of you people I need are never around! Stupid RLs! Who said they could interfere with my character development???? <3

Note: This happens right after this scene here.

See? There was nothing for you to worry about. That went well.

Well? That was not well. I am never well around either of them and together? No, that could have been worse but only if someone had hit me.

I’m not sure if the sudden tensing of her muscles under me was just because she was about to leave the ledge. I leaned forward, partly to comfort her and partly because I liked the way it felt during a take off. Like what I imagined it first felt like if you jumped off a cliff. A terrified thrill before it was all fine.

I wish we could stay up here. And like that the beginnings of asking about a bath were gone. Instead she spread her wings wider and caught a cold updraft to take us higher. We weren’t supposed to be out like this.

Because of Hildgeth. As if we would make the same mistake. I fly better than him. You are better than his was. That she continued to remember his name was something of a surprise. I kept waiting for her to forget, but she hadn’t. Not yet at least. There wasn’t really anywhere we could go, but it was enough to stay up for a little while.

I don’t think I’d ever really seen the appeal of flying before. Sometimes, when I was stuck in a class she would fly just for me. It wasn’t hard for her to find someone willing to accompany her and sometimes even if she couldn’t she would until caught. I should be paying attention in class, sure. But someone always took notes and I could just read them and see what was important and miss the boring stuff.

Besides, when she was flying without me she did more tricks. Sometimes it wasn’t so bad sitting in a class when I could distract myself with her up in the air. I don’t know what I would do without you. You make me happy.

It is not as if you will ever have to find out. I will always be with you. We will never be apart.

She said it a lot, but that was only because I had to hear it all the time. I shouldn’t, but there was plenty I needed I shouldn’t.

Why did you not stay longer? You could have. I was talking and was fine. You were upset. Who upset you?

I don’t know what you mean. No one upset me. I’m fine. I could stop lying to her, but it was hard. I was too used to just saying I was fine. Come on. We better get down before we get in trouble. And we have to have time for your bath.

I didn’t want to land and she circled down slowly for me even though she knows I prefer it when she goes faster. You were jealous. It was enough to distract me from the landing. The jarring return to earth I had no desire to be on these days. I should be getting better. Two turns, Neiran had said. Not that I wanted to believe a word he said. Better to think about other things.

Like why you were jealous. Why? She insisted on asking as I removed her straps in the cold. I don’t want to talk about it.

You need to talk about it. And you will not talk to anyone else although I have told you it is a good idea. I want to make you happy and you will not let me.

I don’t know what it was. Maybe it was the hurt in her voice. Maybe it was the cold. Maybe I’d just had enough. Whatever the cause was I guess I should be thankful it was late evening and no one wanted to be out in the cold. Peloth was fast enough that by the time I’d turned into her she was crouched down so I could. I don’t think it’s the bath she had in mind, but once I’d started crying I couldn’t seem to stop.

It’s just not fair. I’m no worse than anyone else. Everyone else gets to be happy. People find each other and fall in love and are together. Why didn’t I get to have someone longer? I don’t want to be alone. I’m not alone, I have you and you’re the most wonderful thing to ever happen to me, but I don’t want to have nothing else. I want to be happy again and I shouldn’t think that being happy requires someone else because it shouldn’t, but I miss him. He was taken from me and I want him back. It’s not fair.

Coherent thought wasn’t so easy when my chest hurt from crying. Or maybe it was just my heart. Stupid foolishness. It was fine. But it felt like every single tiny piece was breaking again. It would never be whole again. How could it?

He would not want this. I do not want this. You do not let anyone assist you. You cannot do this alone. Please let me help you. If you want to be happy you have to let someone help you.

I wiped one gloved hand over my eyes and shook my head. Straightening up I couldn’t help but to look around to be sure no one had seen me. I couldn’t let anyone /see/ how bad off I was. They could guess or wonder or suspect, but I had to appear fine. If you do not show you need help you will not get it.

Shut up. I’m fine. I’m fine. I have to be. I don’t know what else do be. I stared at the straps in my hands although I’m not sure I was seeing them. I could feel them as easily as I could feel her next to me and inside my head.

You know what to be.

I did. I just didn’t want to be- Come on, brat. You need a bath. And I needed a drink. If she’d let me have one. The brat.

Happy Babying.

2007-07-29T04:29:10Z

Who: Issa, Miniyal, Reyce
Where: Issa's weyr
When: 17:57 on day 20, month 2, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.
What: A month after her arrival Miniyal drops by Asha's home with a gift for her and the happy parents. It's sort of hard to convey the awkwardness.

7/28/2007

At High Reaches Weyr, it is 17:57 on day 20, month 2, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.

The Weyrlingmaster's assistant and her Bendenite are nothing if not predictable, and they have become even more so now that they have Asha trailing along. The baby decided to draw attention to herself at dinner, suddenly bursting into screams while her parents and those around her were trying to eat dinner; shortly after, Reyce and Issa had to retreat, with the former putting away their mostly-finished dinner plates while the latter moved into more quiet corridors to mollify the babe. Since they didn't come back, they could only have returned to Issa's weyr, and that is indeed where the two are sitting now: Reyce sunk into the comfortable armchair while Issa took Asha with her to the rocking chair beside him. A fire crackles in the hearth, completing the scene of sickening domesticity.

It is Issa who gets the first warning. Well, technically it is Oshisyth who gets the first warning as Peloth makes her polite invasion into the green's mind to inquire if they might come up. She leaks excitement through cool tones and informs the green to inform her rider that they are bringing a gift. And to be polite they await permission in the bowl before invading. After all, it's not as Miniyal imagines anyone up there will be particularly thrilled to see her. Bearing gifts or no.

Issa sits cross-legged in that rocking chair, Asha cradled over her ankles as they both sway faintly back and forth on the runners. They're cooing softly at each other in between the snippets of conversation sent Reyce's way and a garishly colored ragdoll, one of Issa's that existed long before Asha came, is dangled from above. It's done a good job of cheering the fussy girl, for she waves away happily at the floppy thing. But while the baby goes on gurgling at the toy, Issa straightens a bit, cocks a brow at the bright fire across from her. "Seems our newest goldrider has decided we're worthy of a visit," she comments out of the blue, turning her still-distracted gaze on Reyce. "And a gift," she adds, surprised brow joining the first as she refocuses on his face. In that same moment, Oshisyth is straightening and pulling down off of her couch, slipping out to a corner of the ledge as she sends permission and welcome to the gold waiting on her word. Issa continues to look at Reyce dryly, about as thrilled as she's expected to be.

Reyce has his eyes closed and his arms stretched out along those of the couch, making himself as comfortable as possible in what's already a pretty comfortable chair. He's not relaxed enough to be asleep, however, and whenever Issa speaks to him he answers promptly in a murmur; thus when she tells him there's a visitor coming, he says with little pause, "She can't hold Asha." Very few people are allowed to hold Asha, though, as far as he's concerned. His eyes peel open and he glances over at Issa, keeping the ledge entrance in his peripheral view.

After permission is given there are a few minutes more of peace before out on the ledge there is the sound of their visitor arriving. Peloth curls up once her rider has departed, but remains where she is. Likely told to stay close in case a quick getaway is required of her. Since her arrival has already been announced Miniyal doesn't wait out on the ledge in the cold winter wind. She doesn't pause until she's just inside the weyr and then she lingers right there. "Umm." One hand tugs off a glove on the other and once both have been tucked into the pockets of her coat she tries to speak again. "Hi. Umm. I'm sorry to bother you at dinnertime. It's just, I wanted to bring by, you know. I mean, gifts." Feet shuffle as her nervous gaze travels from where Reyce sits along to where Issa sits with the reason for the gift thing in the first place. "I'm sorry it's late. I mean, I had to wait for it to be done and finish it and, umm. Yea."

"If she asks, I'm not going to be rude," Issa replies, shoving the toy to one corner of the chair while she goes about gathering Asha up into her arms, putting her feet on the ground. She manages to stand and get a few light bounces in to keep the baby happy before the newest weyrwoman makes her appearance. A pleasant smile greets her. "Hello, Miniyal," she says, friendly and polite as she's been since Miniyal was assigned as her assistant-of-sorts, "it's no bother." She pauses, letting Miniyal babble on as long as she will while she shifts Asha carefully to her shoulder, shoots Reyce a glance. "Oh, don't worry," she replies warmly, smile sticking soundly, "I'm sure it's worth the wait. Your gifts are always so thoughtful. Come in. Sit." A hand waves a few inches from the baby's back to indicate the couch then drops back into place.

Reyce growls at Issa's noncompliant reply, his eyes flicking to Asha and probably wondering what other unworthy sorts have been entrusted with his daughter for the sake of not being rude. That hostility is only marginally worn down by the time Miniyal arrives, so he doesn't trouble himself as Issa has to get up and greet her: just turns his head in her direction and watches from the armchair. Eventually, when there's a break in the speech long enough for him to offer it, he grunts a greeting at her and takes the strain off his neck by looking forward again, his face faintly tilted to the side so he'll be able to see Miniyal when she reaches the couch.

Her gifts are always thoughtful. Of course, sometimes the thoughts aren't the sort other people want to have. It's not Miniyal's fault that is the case. Once more her gaze slides to Reyce but it slides back to Issa more quickly. The lesser of two disturbing evils it would seem. Reaching the couch takes a bit of time as she has to decide if she is going to or not. Finally, if only to not be rude she does move farther into the weyr as she slips a hand into her pocket again. "I won't take up much of your time. I promise." As if this promise might get her a warmer reception. "Congratulations by the way. I'm sorry this wasn't done sooner." Chewing on her lower lip she pauses by the couch without sitting down.

Issa crosses to the side of Reyce's chair nearest the couch and leans her hip down onto it, half-sitting while she watches Miniyal stand there. "Thank you," she accepts graciously for the both of them. "And, really," she passes a smiling glance down to Reyce while patting Asha gently on the back, "we've had so much to keep us busy. It's probably better you waited." A small chuckle escapes as she turns back to the weyrling. "Did you want something? To drink? We have tea, wine." That last offering is made with a slight tip of her head, her hand flicking dismissively out toward the vacant couch again, permissively; no telling, honest.

When Miniyal actually arrives near the couch, Reyce actually bothers to turn towards her, though now Issa's in the way. He hooks his arm around her waist distractedly as he pushes himself back in the chair, pressing his back into it and straightening his posture so there's a clear line of sight between him and Miniyal, around Issa's side. He glances up at the greenrider when she smiles down at him, watching after her gaze for a half-beat before he removes his arm from her, gives a nod for Miniyal's congratulations. "Doesn't matter," is his far simpler reply to the apology, but he shuts up to let Issa take a longer swing at it. So he's just watching the young goldrider, which must be excellent encouragement if she's nervous, his gaze neutral but unwavering.

"Oh, I'm fine, thank you, ma'am." Miniyal finds a polite smile and tries it on ever so briefly. "Please, really. I am fine. I'll just- right. The gifts." Yes. Better to hand them over before sitting down. From her pocket she pulls out three small bags. One in green, one in pink, and one in black. "I hope you like them. I mean, I wasn't sure what to get or anything." You know, since neither of you like me, is only sort of hinted at in her awkward tone. "But it would have been rude and impolite not to get something and-oh!" Biting down on her lower lip she ignores the rush of color to her cheeks as she clears her throat. "Not that I mean I am only- I mean, it's not just because it's polite. I really did want to do something." It's a cautious creep she makes towards the trio to hold out the little bags. The black one to Reyce and the other two to Issa. The offering is made in silence, surely she's said enough by now anyway. Surely Reyce can be blamed for the faulty conversation she offers. It's impolite to stare, not that she would point it out. Since she is trying to be polite and all.

"Of course," Issa allows for Miniyal's swift backtracking, nodding her understanding, "I wouldn't assume anything like that." Never. She draws her smile even wider as she accepts the more prettily colored offerings with a free hand, uttering a soft, "Thank you," as she does so. That free hand, clutching the bags gently by the tops, is quickly drawn back to Asha, though, bracing the baby as she moves her down to a cradling position. Asha doesn't take to the switch very well, though, and begins to sputter a protest, face crinkling into a bit of a frown. "Here," she says to Reyce, handing off the other two bags to him as she stands to jounce Asha back into good spirits. "Open them."

Surely Reyce can be blamed, but one doubts the accusation would do much to trouble him. He lifts a brow slightly when she trips over herself with the mention of obligation behind her decision to give them a present, but at least, if he's staring, his gaze is level and not judgmental in any discernible way. One might guess there's another "Doesn't matter" behind that lifted brow, but he doesn't bother voicing it this time and it might be hard for the nervous to guess at. At least Miniyal's given a break when she approaches with the presents, even though it's Asha - not the gifts - Reyce has his eye on, and he's a bit late moving his hands up to receive the little black bag. And then to have the other bags pushed onto him. "Okay," he says, dragging his gaze away from the protesting Asha and starting with her present, then Issa's, then his own. They'll all gather in his lap as they're revealed, or be handed off to Issa if she wants them and can get the baby calm enough to put up with it.

A nervous glance is given towards Asha. She might try to cry or something and that would be no fun. Miniyal, at least, makes no move towards the baby. Any of Reyce's concerns about the weyrling wanting to hold her seem completely out of place. Once the bags are taken there is a swift retreat towards the couch. She perches at the end closest to where the others are and waits for bags to be opened. Fingers lacing tightly together as she keeps her hands folded in her lap she tries not to watch with much overt nervousness for the way the gifts are received.

The gifts are the same but for a single difference in each of them. Hanging from a ribbon, the colors matched to the bags, is a silver locket. It's not very fancy with a simple oval design and a single snowflake etched onto the front. The clasp to open the locket is easy to find and use although there's nothing inside of it. Embroidered on the ribbons in white is the same snowflake as on the locket although it is repeated down one side on each of them.

"Anyway. It's not great, I know. But I thought, you know. I mean. And, you can do whatever you want with them. I mean, miniature portraits or locks of hair or, you know, toss them into a drawer and forget about them."

Issa peers over into Reyce's lap while her arms jiggle Asha back to quiet gurgling again, a fainter smile on her face as her eyes run over the lockets as they're revealed. "They /are/ great, Miniyal," Issa assures the nervous woman with an ounce of firmness in her tone, tilting her face to spare her a glance before she does reach a hand down to take one of the gifts from Reyce. The pink one dangles from between her fingers as she lifts it to examine the locket, and Asha's eyes follow the shiny thing on it's slow arc upward, letting out a small coo. "Very pretty," she comments further, smile drawn wide as she runs a thumb over the snowflakes embroidered along the ribbon. "Thank you," she utters yet again for the goldrider, as the locket is lowered back to join the others, handed off to Reyce to let him handle it. "I'm flattered you spent your free time making them."

Reyce handles the presents with a matter-of-fact air that's not the most encouraging thing for a gift-giver, but at least Issa and Asha are there to coo approvingly at them. And at least the lockets are a simple oval shape, which - once he has them all out - he turns around on his thumb, then wedges open with some difficulty using the short edge of a squarish fingernail. After he's had some more opportunity to prod at his own black-ribboned locket, he balls it up into his palm and shoves into a pocket. "Thanks," he responds, finally, to the woman who went to the trouble to give him such a thing, and who up to this point has been spared the pressure of his steady gaze again. A short nod, somewhat stiff, adds to the thanks, although it's rather a bit awkward and obligatory, for Reyce is worse at receiving gifts than Miniyal is at giving them. He busies himself taking the other lockets back from Issa and bundling them together.

"I'm glad. I mean, I wasn't sure. And I tried to- Anyway." Miniyal cuts herself off again and sits in silence for a minute before she rises to her feet. "I enjoyed the work. I mean, it passes the time. I mean, embroidery. Right. Anyway. I should be going. I don't want to intrude any more." Into her pocket slips a hand to pull her gloves out although she doesn't put them on yet. "Congratulations again. She's very pretty. Have a nice evening."

Issa's thank you quota has been depleted, so she merely nods at the goldrider as she offers more congratulations. A few steps are taken to mirror Miniyal's own, accompanying her at least part way to the curtain that marks her exit. "Wait a second, so..." she begins, pausing on the stone and bouncing Asha softly on her arm to prevent any sudden fusses the baby may be cooking up. "How are things going with B'rok at the helm? Honestly," she adds, a brief curl at one edge of her smile acknowledging that it's really a formality, asking Miniyal outright for the truth behind all the rumors.

This time, Reyce does trouble himself to get up and keep up the veneer of hospitality, stepping to Issa's side to present a solid parental front. His arm nudges against hers, a rapid glance sliding down from her face to the baby in case Issa's tired of holding her. Whether or not she takes him up on the offer, he shifts an extra step forward to create the beginnings of a conversational circle that could trap Miniyal if she's not careful. Reyce himself isn't doing it consciously, for his eyes are on the baby whom he can just see better if he's out a bit in front.

Miniyal's steps pause when she is halted by a question. There is no change in her expression when asked to make her answer honest. Issa knows, after all, there was no need to ask it that way. She tries not to notice Reyce moving closer, but it's impossible. So, she just takes another step backwards and tugs on one glove. "He can't do hidework to save his life. But so far there has not been any serious complaints from anyone. At least that I have heard. But I suppose I wouldn't hear considering what is said." Her nose wrinkles up briefly before she continues. "Things are going well, ma'am. There were worse choices to replace D'ven. I'm sure you know how thrilled I am to be yet another person's project so I won't burden any of you with comments on that. And I really should be going." Another backwards step is taken. She'll flee somehow.

Issa smiles knowingly as those choice rumors are touched upon, though they are as amusing to her as they are distasteful to Miniyal. "Oh," she starts cheerfully, sparing Reyce a glance that subtly assures him she and Asha are both fine for the moment, "I'm just waiting to see how you handle being no one's. But that's all very good to know." She gives Asha a quick jostle and the baby gurgles softly in response. "We appreciate you coming by. Go and enjoy your free time. I imagine Peloth will be craving a bath sometime in the next few minutes." If the conversation she and Oshisyth have been having, idly appreciating the warm waters in all this cold, has had any effect. She stays put, but Miniyal is free to make her escape, facing no more resistance from the greenrider.

Since Reyce doesn't have to take his daughter off Issa's hands, he retreats back a half-step and lets both of them alone. He tunes back into the riders' conversation about when Miniyal's talking about being a project. So predictably, it's time for her to be trained with a stare again while he considers the words. She won't find fleeing very hard, though, since as soon as she steps back, Reyce puffs a soft breath through his nostrils and drops his chin to his chest, cutting off the stare to let her start that retreat though he's obliged to tilt his gaze back up and add, "See you," when Issa cheerfully waves her off to tend her dragon.

"Oh, I'm sure I'll find a spectacular way to fuck up on my own, ma'am. Good evening." The good evening seems to be aimed at the couple in general although no effort is made to look at Reyce. Miniyal turns to go, leaving the bath comment be since it's likely the truth anyway. Well, she lets it be until she's nearly gone and then she lets out a little sigh. Shaking her head she looks over her shoulder at the new mother. "No wonder she picked you." Peloth surely willing to share her conversation to help explain why she /must/ have a bath now. Her gaze drifts down to Asha and there's a faint smile. "I hope she grows up to be just like the both of you." It's such a pleasant little curse offered in a politely cheerful sort of way. And then the weyrling sees herself out and a few moments later her and the bath craving gold are gone from the ledge.

Memey thing.

2007-07-25T18:03:07Z

Based on the lj interests lists of those who share my more unusual interests, the interests suggestion meme thinks I might be interested in
1. anti feminist score: 2
2. really tall people score: 2
3. overidentifying with fictional characters score: 1
4. the right to choose score: 1
5. disarray score: 1
6. baring my soul score: 1
7. ggnra score: 1
8. dr. james wilson score: 1
9. being childless score: 1
10. losing sleep over games score: 1
11. corrupting others score: 1
12. ms. greene score: 1
13. scheming score: 1
14. dark angsty artists score: 1
15. causing pain score: 1
16. throwing score: 1
17. funny videos score: 1
18. cunning score: 1
19. patricide score: 1
20. precision score: 1

changed by ouwiyaru based on code by ixwin
Find out more

Ready to work

2007-07-21T00:22:42Z

Who: Miniyal and B'rok
Where: Weyrlingmaster's Office
When: The day after this scene.
What: Miniyal shows up for work and begins to exert her own sort of control over the life of the weyrlingmaster. Hey, everyone has to have a hobby. She is a good assistant.
Note: Unfinished, but faded out so we might move on to something else. However, it is sort of important since it shows how they relate once we finish another scene. Also, I was bored so posted.

7/13/2007

At High Reaches Weyr, it is 19:21 on day 18, month 1, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.

It's just after lunch and all good weyrlings are going about their day. Which involves classrooms all sorts of things. And for Miniyal involves sitting in the weyrlingmaster's office. Sitting at his desk. Well, he's not in the room using it. So, she will. Besides, she's entitled to use it. Or something. Besides, she's sorting papers. She did some work yesterday before leaving that mostly involved cleaning out the closet and finding someone to haul away the junk that needed hauling away. Determined by her, but that's her job. Today is hidework day and it begins by cleaning off the desk. So, she sorts hides into three piles and every now and again drops one into a box on the floor to be scraped off and reused. Not many, but just a few. As she works she nibbles on cookies she's brought with her. Meant for someone else, but there's extras so why not?

The sound of voices echoes in the hallway. It is the herald that B'rok approaches and that he has someone with him. Miniyal will not see who it is because goodbyes are exchanged before they reach the door. She will overhear the other person calling him 'Rock' though, several times. He rounds the corner and she will see that he has a couple of stitches in his forehead and that he is a little surprised to see her at his desk. No comment though and it is taken in stride, a cookie stole from the plate. "My apologies for yesterday." He says and then changes the subject. "What are you doing today? How is it coming?"

Someone else might have jumped up from the desk she doesn't belong at. However, Miniyal clearly feels she belongs wherever she thinks she does. What she does do is swallow the last of the cookie in her mouth and toss off something that might be a salute. "Sir. Nothing to worry about. I cleaned out the closet." And because she just has to try to push buttons she reaches into her pocket and pulls something out that she tosses onto the desk. It would be an eyepatch like the one he wears. "An extra. Keep it in your pocket. Then you can not freak out." Once she's said it she looks up to watch his reaction. "Sorting out what you need to do and what I can do. Making progress on the old stuff. Let me in here at night, sir, and I can have everything caught up in two days."

B'rok looks between the offered eyepatch and Miniyal. His eye does not narrow and he does not bluster. Instead, he is confused. Even more confused as he puts it in his pocket. "Doesn't it bother you?" He asks her, a little gruffly. "You looked as though you were about to pass out on me. What if you saw the socket? I was embarassed, for your sake." He sits his behind on the edge of the desk to look down at the hidework. "I'm guessing that pile is what I have to sign. There must be forty things."

Miniyal blinks a few times before shaking her head. "What? No, sir. Could care less. Umm." She looks down and takes up the hide in front of her. It gets looked at and then set into a pile. Not the to be signed one. "Forty-three, sir. The oldest is on top. The sight of blood makes me sick." That last sentence is sort of run on from the one before it and hurried out.

B'rok reaches across the desk in front of Miniyal for a quill and an inkpot and drags one of the things into his lap. His signature is neat and efficient, contrary to the mess that he keeps. "Where do you want me to put these?" Her answer makes him adjust his eyepatch -- the one on his eye -- again. "I assumed it would. It bothers me." Self consciously he looks around, finding something else to say. "I see that you got the closet cleaned and the desk moved back. Did you hurt yourself yesterday?"

"Oh, umm. Oh!" Now she gets up although she doesn't look flustered. Only sounds it. "Sit. Sorry. I'll work on the other side." Miniyal moves around the desk and gestures to the cookies he's already helped himself to. "I don't know what kind you like. Of anything. So, I just guessed. Figured everyone likes oatmeal. Or should." Once she's on the other side of the desk she resumes her work. "Stack them neatly on the corner, please. Once they're all done I'll add them to the out-box. I've arranged for one of the others to come pick things up at the end of the day and take them to a friend in records who sees they get where they need to." Sorting pauses so she can look up. "Things always bother us more than they bother other people. It's a rule of nature or something. Supposedly my being fat, ugly, and bitchy isn't such a huge deal always to others like it is to me. Go figure, sir."

B'rok makes no effort to get up after placing the signed record where it is supposed to be. "I should have something to say about lack of confidence in your physical self. Or at the very least, disliking your image. Some bit of encouraging wisdom. But, I was never good at being a hypocrite. Who is your friend in records? Are they trustworthy? I'd at least like to know where they are going." All in one sentence, one thought and one breath. He's looking at the cookies now too. "Oatmeal is satisfactory. Thank you." What he's thinking is that she is strangely thoughtful for someone who is supposed to be a miserable bitch. "What do you believe that I should do in regards to medical records? Create files on individual weyrlings? We have to have copies here, too."

Miniyal's attention goes back to her work and she finishes sorting. It completes the work on the desk from the looks of it. He'll find the drawers organized as well. Which does mean she's been through them all and seen what is in there. Perks of the job. Well, for her. "His name is Bothal. I've known him since I was a child, sir. He's trustworthy. I've used him before for all sorts of things. Umm. That sounded bad, but I didn't mean it that way." Frowning thoughtfully she heads to the closet to open it up and poke around inside. "Need something for between the desk and the box. Let me find something. Umm. Medical records? Locked cabinet here. I'd keep all personal information on weyrlings in a locked cabinet. I have one being delivered later today. Easy to add them to existing files."

"You wanted me to let you in here at night." It is a little bit belated, yes. "Unfortunatly, I cannot do that. I am in here more often than not at night and it is my time to get actual work done." Him, sleep? Way too much to do. "Besides. You should be in the records room... or actually resting a little bit." When he is done saying that little bit she gets a bit of an unusual look from him. "I wouldn't have thought of taking it that way, until you said it. Besides, even if that were so, it isn't my business to care about." A shrug and then a quirk. "What do you mean? Something to fill the floor space? Or did you mean something for decoration?"

"No, sir. It is inefficient to carry them one at a time to the door where the out-box is set." Not on the filing cabinet that caused a ruckus, but on a small end table with two boxes. One for things to be picked up and one for things to be delivered to. Miniyal gestures towards it. "Decoration, sir? Do you want decoration? You don't seem the type. No offense. My mother paints. I have a friend who does sculptures. I know someone who works with wood over at the hold who could do some nice furniture."

B'rok shakes his head. "It's all right. I'll look after it. I wouldn't mind a few things in here but that must be done by me. Thank you for the offer, however. You are being far too kind about this. Almost too helpful." He is wondering what her motives are and it comes out in his voice. "Anyway, what do you recommend then?" He doesn't actually add 'once you've answered my question' but it does seem like it would fit on there pretty easily given the tone of his voice.

Miniyal's nose wrinkles as she examines the desk. "How old is that anyway, sir? Because, I mean, really. If it's been here since R'vain one can only have nightmares about what was done on it. I'd toss it." There's no reason at all to doubt her motives! She just likes to totally take over whatever she is involved with. So long as it doesn't involve being any sort of leader. "Well, if you decide to redo the furniture and want something done especially for you let me know. The man I know does excellent work and will likely give you a bit of a deal since he owes me a favor or two, sir." She comes back from the closet with a flat basket. "This will do for now. Sign and put in here. And, I am not sure what you mean too helpful. Should I do less, sir? You really haven't said anything but see to the hidework. I'm sorry if I am doing too much. Old habit." As if he asked no question at all and she's carrying the conversation on her own.

Fade out.

I like being high.

2007-07-20T23:19:13Z

Who: Arekoth, H'kon, Miniyal, and Peloth
Where: Southern bowl and overhead
When: 16:40 on day 2, month 2, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.
What: Miniyal and Peloth are by the lake when H'kon and Arekoth happen upon them. While their riders do little talking the dragons do some flying. Also, H'kon totally spoils Min's fun like a thing of spoileryness. :(

7/19/2007

At High Reaches Weyr, it is 16:40 on day 2, month 2, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.

The cold weather to a native is just no big deal. The snow, the wind, the cold is all typical to High Reaches' winters and if one doesn't adapt then they have to learn to live inside for most of the turn. Miniyal stands by the lake and peers out at the frigid water with one hand in her pocket. The other one, warm in a black leather glove, rests on Peloth's neck who sits on the ground beside her. A gust of wind blows the coat Miniyal wears around her and sends her hair flying into her face. Neither cause her to move from her contemplation of icy water.

H'kon is made to look all the more broad by a heavy fleece-lined riding jacket, and a toque that downplays any length his hair might give to his head. Presumably the man has gloves, but his hands are stuffed deep enough into big pockets - bigger than the norm on such jackets, and surely a H'kon-made addition - that they can't rightly be scene. Arekoth, for his part, is just on his way from the feeding grounds, limping along relatively jovially, occasionally dipping his muzzle in a snowbank to leave a red imprint (though they become increasingly less impressive as he goes along and becomes cleaner). But of course, Arekoth sees Peloth, and it's only natural for him to kick some of his recently-made pinkish snow her way. As a gift, or something.

Peloth is not aware of company just yet as she seems interested in doing just what her rider does. Stare off at the lake like it's the only thing in the world to notice. Then snow is kicked her way and so she turns her head to see where it came from. Arekoth gets a quietly warbled greeting and a swish of her too long tail sends cleanish now his way. His and his rider's way. She's not overly picky. Miniyal looks over her shoulder when alerted either by the tail or by some quiet words that company might be arriving. However, she makes no gesture yet to invite company.

H'kon already had little icicles forming on the whiskers under his nose. Now he can add snow on his eyebrows. The brownrider says nothing, however, and makes an almost dignified retreat as Arekoth crouches in preparation to tail-swish some more snow back the gold's way. A playful day, apparently. Uninvited, H'kon has little problem with staying back. His dragon offers a croon, though, along with that snow.

If she wants to know what is going on Miniyal must be letting Peloth keep her informed. Her shoulders hunch up so she is likely told about the snow that hits the brownrider. Peloth doesn't much seem to care however and she flicks her tail across the snow rather than trying to send more anyone's way. << She said I should apologise. For his snow. I see no reason to. /Mine/ was clean. >>

<> Arekoth has set to closing the distance between himself and Peloth, seeing as their snow tossing has been put on hold. H'kon sets to brushing snow from his face with the tips of his gloves. << Yours was very nice. >>

With her conversation ended, or at least disturbed, Miniyal turns her head and watches H'kon brush snow off himself. "Umm. Sorry, sir." And then she looks out at the lake again. So he doesn't have to talk if he doesn't want to. Leave it to the dragons to talk. <> Once he is close enough she gives him the obligatory head-butt of greeting.

H'kon gives a quick nod of his head to the weyrling, finishing his brushing, but keeping a hand out of his pocket. Just in case it's needed. Only natural he would be watching Miniyal half-expectantly now. "It is... fine." Arekoth returns the head-butt, as is only polite, shuffling a forward foot in the snow in the process. << Everything's cold. >>

<> Peloth stretches out one foreleg and dips it into the lake before withdrawing it. << Have you seen me fly yet? I am the best. >> So modest. Miniyal is silent for a few moments as if trying to decide if she should say anything else. Eventually she does, although it's said without turning her head. "I'm not skipping anything, sir. There's no need to turn me in to anyone." It is not said with any change in tone as if the idea upsets her. Perhaps she is merely trying to put his mind at ease over contributing to the delinquency of a weyrling.

"I am... pleased to hear it," H'kon decides, and there is indeed an actual hint of approval in his voice. << The cold doesn't bother me, >> Arekoth offers back, with a touch of boastfulness quite easily felt. And the dragon's wings give a quick rustle. << No! You should fly with me now. >> Rustlerustle. << And if you're good enough, then I'll teach you tricks. >>

Miniyal's tone now changes just the slightest bit to something nearing amused. "Yes, sir. I am sure you are. I hope you are doing well?" Polite small talk attempted, succeeded so far. As Peloth moves away from where she stands both hands wind up in her pockets. <> The words are full of youthful boasting. With a few steps Peloth deems she is far enough away and spreads her wings before leaping into the air. Which sends a spray of snow towards both riders.

Arekoth goes so far as to give an excited call - not quite a bugle - to see the young gold take off, and of course, is hot on her tail, three-legged-running through the snow until he, too, is at a safe distance to be airborne. H'kon manages to close his eyes before getting completely sprayed with snow, and keeps them closed. "I am well, yes." A moment, so that he can open one eye, and frown at his dragon. "And you are doing better?"

The curse that comes from the snow drenching is muffled and Miniyal brushes at her coat and her hair to try to get some of it off. "Brat," is mumbled under her breath as she looks up overhead with a fond smile for the annoying gold. "The last thing she needs is encouragement I think. Ah, well. At least she's not trying to get me to go swimming with her in the lake." The question of how she is doing is ignored while she watches for a moment the sky. Finally she looks away and back out at the lake. "I'm doing as well as can be expected, sir. It's been rough lately." What with losing a weyrling and all. Overhead, Peloth concentrates on gaining altitude. On occasion she misjudges an air current, but it doesn't slow her down much. <>

H'kon gives a soft 'hmm' of acknowledgement when Miniyal does speak. The snow is allowed to melt on his face until it's appropriately slushy, and only then does the man reach to brush himself off. Again. Arekoth keeps a good distance between himself and the gold, following her quite easily, of course. Practice, and all that. << The best part about being high is diving down. Low flying's more exciting, though. You have to be quick. >>

If he's happy in silence far be it from Miniyal to speak. She's content to stand by the lake in silence and stare off at nothing. Slipping her hands back into her coat pockets she tilts her head a little to try to peer at what goes on way overhead. << Diving is good. We must 'be careful'. Because of Hildgeth. I am very good at flying close to the wall. >> Once she reached a height she approves of she does a slow loop and then dives down to go right past where Arekoth is. <> Not quite the same thing, but Peloth doesn't sound as if she will be convinced otherwise.

Arekoth still holds his place in behind Peloth, watching her technique, or something. << Yes. I wouldn't want that to happen to you. I would be very sad. >> But the gold's dive is distraction enough from this, and Arekoth is quick to fold his wings and go in after her. Only he'll do it in corkscrew, tumbler-pigeon-esque style. It's only once he's pulled up and is moving to get ahead of Peloth that he offers, << It isn't the same. You don't go fast walking. You don't react to the ground the same. >> And as for H'kon? He glares at his dragon now. "If you want, I can have him land." Because the brown is clearly being a bad influence.

Miniyal's attention is pulled from where it was, on what goes on in the sky, to what is being said on the ground. They haven't been flying /that/ long and clearly she enjoys the sensation shared with the gold. Enough that she gives her head a shake and blinks away the brightness in her eyes before asking, "What? Oh. No, sir. It's fine. Really. Don't. She's enjoying herself." Just her, yep. The her in question heads for wall of the bowl faster than she is likely normally allowed. <> For now Peloth gets close enough to the wall it almost looks like she will run into it before twisting and climbing up once more. She's lucky no one is trying to leave their weyr as she zooms up and past ledges without any thought to what others might be doing. She is flying and that is more important than anyone else doing it. Except for the brown she lets trail along after her. <>

Arekoth is good enough to shoot out a sharp bugle, dropping back in behind Peloth, to alert any possible ledge-leavers of their arrival. << You don't. That's good. >> And he's beating his wings harder to catch up. On the ground, H'kon gives a slight twitch of a nod, though watches those dragons intently. He's far more accustomed to the thrill of the flight, surely, and is enough of a stick-in-the-mud to worry about relative safety. << If you like going high, then let's go up above the weyr. >>

Not a real stick in the mud and not accustomed to it Miniyal lets herself enjoy the flying. It's not as if she allows herself much to enjoy these days. Enough that wind blown hair covers her face and she makes no move to brush it away. Instead she closes her eyes and keeps out the slightest of ears for potential conversation and that is it. <> Which may not be true anywhere in Peloth's mind, but it is true there and the truth of it comes across even in that calm tone that fills the brown's mind. <>

Arekoth takes the lead quite easily, agreement enough displayed in that motion to cancel any need for words. The brown climbs at a good pace, though there's the occasional dip or dive, to surf along a gust of wind or spot of warmer air. Playing. On one such bouncing between air masses, the brown snakes his neck to look back at Peloth. << You should just tell me when you want to fly. I'll always fly with you, and you can practice then. >> H'kon brings up a hand to shield his eyes from the relative bright of the winter sky as those dragons start to look smaller.

Peloth flies close to where Arekoth is. She leaves enough space so wings and tail do not become entangled, but it's clear she's now making a game of this. How close can she fly without an accident? An accident, of course, is not something she even considers as likely to happen to her. Like any kid she knows it might happen to someone not as good as her, but never to her. << That will be good. I must stay the best and that requires practice. I would not want one of the others to get better. >> The way she says 'others' rather implies 'inferiors.' If Miniyal has noticed how far up the dragons have been going. . .well, no. She hasn't noticed at all. If anyone is going to keep an eye on them it will just have to be the brownrider.

Arekoth thinks this is a wonderful idea, of course. He's surely skilled enough to keep them both safe. The brown swerves out, using a gust of wind to brake, and then winging right on back toward the gold. << We'll practice a lot, then. All the time, when I'm not busy. >> H'kon is indeed keeping an eye on them. And this new game is enough to prompt a low, "What restrictions have the weyrlingmasters set for you in flight?"

With two dragons so sure of themselves how can anything go wrong? Peloth swerves as well and when there is a zig from the brown she performs a zag in return. So far so good. << All the time. I have those drills we do, but most of the day I am free so you will seek me out. Or I will seek you out. You are not bad. >> High praise indeed. The question on the ground brings Miniyal back enough to blink and even brush hair from her eyes for the second or two before the wind sends it right back there. "No flying alone, sir." Then her head tips upwards and she squints to try to find where the gold is in the sky. "She's very good. The best in her class." If the pride in her tone is excessive there's no way to tell her that or correct her on it.

Arekoth feels it necessary to give a quick little spiral. Not bad indeed. And then he's pushing for more height, moving fast, taunting a chase. "Ah." H'kon closes his eyes now and changes visual input. Easier to see what's going on up there if one puts themself up there. "Ahah," H'kon adds. "And where would you have put that bronze, in the class?" A bit more stress is evident in his voice at this point.

"His name was Hildgeth, sir," Miniyal says with a hint of sharpness in her tone. As if he should have known. "L'cor and Hildgeth, sir." Shaking her head she closes her eyes once more and smiles as Peloth climbs higher. "Not at the top of the class. They were adequate. They had problems, sir. Like L'cor worrying more about his looks than always paying attention in class. We would not have had such an accident." So, there. Hmph. Arrogantly modest. Or modestly arrogant. Well, something. Peloth bugles at Arekoth before she gives chase. Flying up close to him and passing for a moment before turning and diving just below and to the side to follow once more. Clearly on purpose and not just because she might be considering being a wee bit tired.

"I know their names, weyrling. The whole Weyr does." Arekoth is moving down after Peloth, making himself as aerodynamic as he can, and once again offering little twirls as he descends. Why not. It's a downright grumpy, <> that comes just at the same time that H'kon is jutting his chin forward and glaring at the sky.

It's either H'kon or his dragon's words that snap Miniyal out of whatever enjoyment she was getting out of her afternoon. Eyes narrowing she directs her full attention to the other rider. "Begging your pardon, sir, but I thought perhaps you did not since you referred to him simply as 'that bronze.' You'll forgive me if that was a bit insulting to one of their classmates." Matching her annoyance in the ground is Peloth's in the sky. She levels off for a moment and watches Arekoth before diving after him trying to spiral around him and mostly succeeding although she has to veer wide on occasion. <>

Arekoth slows his speed as best he can without upsetting his trajectory when Peloth comes in around him. << He's always trouble. >> H'kon, for his part, turns that glare to Miniyal. "Have her land." Arekoth is indeed moving steadily lower, angling for a space to land that won't squish anyone. <>

"She's landing, sir. If you'll excuse me. I have to get back to work. The weyrlingmaster's hidework will not do itself." Miniyal doesn't bother with a salute since he ruined her fun. Instead she turns and heads back for the office she works in at the moment. As for Peloth she lets disappointment tinge her words along with a little bit of sadness. <> She flies in low and comes to a landing far from the lake. A twitch of her tail and she heads off for the feeding pens. Can't fly, may as well eat.

"Best to focus on your duties, weyrling." The use of title is surely linked to the lack of a parting salute. Arms are then crossed over his chest and, quite oblivious to the cold at this point, the brownrider turns a condescending frown to his lifemate. Arekoth, for his part, has landed just to the side of a snowbank, far enough away from Peloth so as to give her space, but not so far that a soft croon might not be heard. << You just tell me when. You fly nicely, too. I'm very impressed. >>

Peloth sends a whisper of affection into Arekoth's mind before she vanishes in the distance. Miniyal just keeps walking with her head down. Likely whatever she would say is not fit for repeating to someone who outranks her at the moment.

Baaa. Quiz.

2007-07-15T21:51:39Z

Mniyal's Personal DNA

The dangers of filing cabinets.

2007-07-13T22:47:18Z

Who: Miniyal and B'rok
Where: Weyrlingmaster's office
When: Mid-afternoon on day 18, month 1, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.
What: Miniyal reports for duty. With a late lunch. She may hate being an assistant, but she's good at it. Things continue to go well between her and the new weyrlingmaster. Doom! It has to mean Doom. There is a little Doom at the end at least. I was beginning to worry. :)

7/13/2007

At High Reaches Weyr, it is mid-afternoon on day 18, month 1, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.

B'rok is in his office prior to the time that his 'assistant' is due to arrive. He is sitting on his desk with his legs crossed in lieu of the chair, surrounded by a huge pile of files that he has cleaned off of the floor. He is picking things off of the desk in succession and tossing them into smaller piles. His eyepatch is a trace askew and his general expression can easily be described as vexed.

The 'assistant' in question makes her way to the office to begin the glorious task before her. Well, perhaps not quite glorious but still. Suitable works. Old habits die hard and so while Miniyal has at least learned to knock on the door before barging in she still has this idea she has to bring something with her. Well, she knocks but doesn't quite wait long enough for an answer to come in. Instead she knocks, counts to two or three, and lets herself in with her little covered plate. Too late to be lunch anyway, barely. "Excuse me, sir?"

B'rok reads for a second or two and flings the file into the leftmost pile with a look of disgust. Not only is he bad at filing he hates it too. When Miniyal knocks his chin comes up. Though relief does not show on his face he certainly feels that way. "Miniyal." He says. He uses her name when she is here, not 'Weyrling'. "I see that you have come to help me. And not a moment too soon. I was just contemplating how much easier it would be to file ashes. Right into the dustbin."

Miniyal closes the door behind her once she is inside. "Umm. Yes, that would make it hard to actually use the files again, sir." So very serious she sounds it is impossible to tell if she is joking. "Umm. My mother tracked me down after lunch. She wanted me to bring this to you." From serious to embarrassed. "Who knows why. I try not to get into her mind." The plate is carried to the desk and she looks at it a moment before clearing off a space to set it down. A bit of steam leaks out from under the napkin covering it and slowly fills the air in the immediate area with the scent of sweet and spices.

B'rok responds at first with a grumble. "But you have to admit, even just a little it would sure be easier." His eye twitches to the plate and his look of vexation is briefly overshadowed by surprise. "Oh. Uh. Well, that's thoughtful. I, uh. I forgot to eat again. You don't mind if I dispense with the usual sit down, eat politely and use two forks do you?" His left hand lifts the cover off of the dish so that he can see what is inside. "Thank you." Not having anywhere to put the lid, he throws that down to the chair instead of sitting in it. "I've been trying to split all of this up for you but, I'm going to give up. All the letters start running into each other and try as I might I can't seem to make myself care." He quarter smiles, with just one corner of his mouth.

There's two pastries on the plate and once the cover is removed Miniyal points to the first, "Meat pie, she said. With some sort of onion gravy stuff. And the other is some dessert thing or other. Redfruit I think. This time of the turn it usually is. Still, Corin can work miracles with them anyway." The food is not important to her. It's pointed out so he can decide which to eat first. Instead she focuses on the records strewn about. "Oh, there's no need, sir. I have a system I use to organize things that has always served me well. Diya's files were a bit odd when I first worked for her because she went through assistants every couple of turns. They all tried to do things their own way but wouldn't just start over."

Damn her for reminding him that he forgot to eat. Damn her for making him hungry. It is completely and 100% her fault. Damn her for being nice enough to bring him food. His stomach rumbles audibly as he snatches up the plate and sets it in the lap of his crossed legs. He then begins to go to town on it with a pace that is not completely rude but is not exactly what one would want to use in a dinner with someone important. Or their mother. "Mm." He compliments, speaking to the pie. "I really don't have a clue to the best way to do it, Miniyal. So, you tell me what you need and want and I'll bellow down the hall and get someone to bring it."

"D'ven had meals brought up. Because he forgot to eat. I told the kitchen to do the same for you. At least for lunch, sir." Miniyal shrugs as if it's nothing and having spent plenty of time as one person or another's assistant it likely is not. "Anyway, sir. I don't think I'll need much. There are plenty of cabinets in here meant for filing. It's just a matter of figuring out what was where. And where you want things. Supplies, weyrling reports, letters from the leadership, wing formations, staff- How are you handling that, sir? I mean, do I need to separate out what is for just you and what is for Issa and whomever else you might hire?"

B'rok is lost in thought. "Issa's stuff has already been done. That would be the pile that is over by the plant. The supplies and the like are over behind the door... and all this stuff on my desk is weyrling reports. Half of them I still need to sign and some of them need to be sent back to healers or others after that. I'll find someone else to run that stuff around. Someone I have an excuse to pick on. Ella, or S'ol. Once we get it separated that is." His explanation is drowned out by his voracious consuming of the meat pie and the clink of his fork on the plate as he finishes it in what has seemed like five bites. "I guess I should probably have an... ah, what do you call them." His fork pokes at the air in Miniyal's direction. "In-box?" He seems to have an idea, and reaches down to take the dustbin and put it on his desk. "Perfect."

Miniyal's attention is pretty wholly on the piles of hides and he could be eating with his toes while standing on his had and she wouldn't notice. "An in-box would be a good idea, sir. As would an out-box. Have you any desire for some sort of way to rate things by level of importance? So you will know which things to see to first." Her only reaction to his idea of an in-box is to reach over without looking and take it off the desk to place it back on the floor. Tsk. "I'm surprised there's no such thing in here. Have you checked all the supply cupboards and all?"

B'rok shrugs. "No, not really." He admits. "Been too busy working with some problem weyrlings to sit down and think about it. D'ven left most of the accessory furniture in the closet over there if you want to have a look. I'll help when I finish eating." He shrugs again. Shrug. "Level of importance? I..... do .... you think that it is necessary? Most of the time, if something is that urgent someone will come and see me and not send writing." The closet is pointed to with his fork, while he scrapes up the remainders of the onions and gravy. "Are you just handling the organization of what is here, or will you be doing my files until your graduation? Sorting my in and outs, I mean."

The indifference grates, but she tries not to show it. The way it comes out could be thought to be anything. Hands folded in front of her she twists her ring around and around on her finger. "It depends, sir. If you do not think it necessary I shall not bother with it. If it becomes necessary we may discuss it again at a later date." His question causes Miniyal to pause and she looks around the room. "I could- " Internal conflict causes a pause but since she's already worrying at her ring there's no way to tell what the problem might be. "I can do the work for you, sir. If you want someone permanent I could likely find a good candidate. Or several so you might choose from them."

B'rok inhales the desert and sets the plate down off the desk with a clatter. "I'll take this back myself, when we're done. Don't worry about it." He'll probably forget but he means well. Pushing himself off the desk he approaches the closet, opening it to reveal a mess of things that may or may not include inboxes. He begins to rummage to the tune of clanking and banging. "You brought it up, and I trust your opinion. So let's go with it. I guess I'm looking for something that you put things in." Are you, B'rok? That's wonderful. Helpful and descriptive, too. "Well, think about it for a second." His eye looks up at her from his position on one knee. "Do you /want/ to do it? All of this is completely optional. I just desperately need help. I don't know the first thing about being an administrator. If you didn't want to do it, I can find someone else."

"Right, sir. I'll see it is returned." Really, with the state of his office what does he think? That she'd believe he wouldn't leave it there for a turn before remembering it? Hardly. It's not that she is anal-retentive, she is just highly organized. And annoyed by anything that is not. "Very well, sir. We'll arrange a system. Files, I think would be easiest. Separate ones for right this instant, soon, and whenever." Likely labels chosen just for him as there's almost a smirk as she says it. Miniyal looks at the closet and shakes her head. "That will need organizing as well." A little sigh as she her head shakes. "If I don't you'll just let it get to be a mess again before finding someone else to fix it. I can do it until I graduate, sir, and then make sure there is someone to replace me." If only to save the poor records.

B'rok opens his mouth and flicks his gaze at Miniyal as though he was about to argue with her. He decides not to, though. Because he'll just prove her wrong. Or try to remember to, and then forget about it and prove her right. He ends up wiggling his index finger at her. "Something about that doesn't seem right. Instant? Soon? Whenever? Shouldn't it be soon, whenever, and sometime?" He's sharp enough to pick up the humor or barb in her words. He's not sure which, but he can make a joke at himself too. "Let's tackle the closet together, then? I'll lug. Show me where you want things." He seems to trust her, letting her decide how all of this is to be run. Maybe he wasn't just giving her the job out of pity. Did he hear her say she was in for the longer haul? Good question.

He heard her say that because she has to save the records. All those poor hides and supplies tossed about carelessly with no love. Miniyal frowns as she moves over towards the closet and peers inside. "Some of it is probably junk. Just, umm, as you take it out decide if you will for sure use it in the next month. If not it should go in a pile of its own to be removed. One month. I mean, we can always find a use for something eventually if we think about it. So, you have to limit the clutter. That's the first step. Oh. And how long do you plan on archiving things? Here, anyway. I would think five to seven turns and then send it to records where the original documents can be combined into a bound volume or just copied into an existing one depending on what it is." She enjoys this sort of thing. How dull, but Miniyal shows more interest in the whole organize the office project than she has in almost anything else besides Peloth in months.

B'rok scratches his short-cropped hair and fiddles with his eyepatch, clear signs that he is thinking. "Yeah." He murmurs, beginning to haul junk out of the closet. Most of it is being pushed towards the 'junk' pile. But he offers Miniyal what looks like a in-out box sort of thing over his shoulder with a grunt. "If we are going to be working in close proximity for the next few months you ought to know that I am not exactly happy to be here. If I am cross with you, I apologize for it. There may be days that I resent doing... " He grunts as he drags a single-drawer filing cabinet from the bottom of a closet. ".....this more than most. And I will probably be unpleasant to you." He burrows deeper, with his head and shoulders inside the closet. Something is muttered under his breath that sounds a lot like 'tell me I can't fly'. His real voice follows it. "I just want you to know now that I don't, and won't mean anything by it. I appreciate the help immensely, especially since you are volunteering to do it. Oh, archiving? Uh. Yeah. We'll go with what you said."

Miniyal's attention has strayed again, but when he speaks she stops staring at the mess that is the office. "Oh." Said before she goes to take the supposed in-box and examine it. "This will work. I wouldn't keep this on the desk. Instead I'd put in and the out-box on a table near the door. It keeps the desk from being cluttered and keeps people from having an excuse to be near the desk and snoop." Advice offered from the former spy. Aww. He can make of it what he will, it seems, because she just carries on after saying it. "Oh. Umm. It's fine, sir. I mean, it's probably better you get that way with me than with the others. I don't mind. I'll just re-label everything with a high priority label for a couple of sevens until my feelings aren't hurt anymore." Which has to be a joke. Because, really, mislabel things? Never!

B'rok nods. She can't see it, because his head is in the closet. But he nods. "Right. Can we use that filing cabinet I dragged out for a table? We could keep non-important things in it. Supply records and such." Scraping sounds drift out from around him as he throws somebody's shoe over his shoulder. "So much useless junk in here. We need to get one of the cleaning staff in here. This is ridiculous." All muttered softly. "I'll consider that a promise to remember if I ever yell at you. I'll be sure to check my files."

The file cabinet. Ah, yes. There it is. Miniyal peers at it, head tilting from one side to the other. "It might. If it's not too short." Moving over to it she peers at it as if moving a few feet will change it. "We can see." And so since he is tossing shoes out of the closet, well, shoe, she begins to move it. It's not often lately that she has trouble with this sort of thing. However, hauling things across a floor tends to go faster if you move, well, faster. So, she moves a little too fast. The end result is she is shoving it past the desk when she trips over one of her boots. With the other one. Her knee bangs into it and she only at the last minute stifles a decidedly unladylike curse. Annoyed with it she gives it a shove which causes it to tip over and crash into the chair behind the desk. Which then gets pushed forward with enough force to slam into the desk and send anything too close to the edge tumbling down. The file cabinet wobbles and then tips back down and keeps going. Her feet are barely moved out of the way before it crashes to the ground.

"Have a look and see?" He asks as he frowns at the sight of the dustbunnies in the back of the closet. He's disorganized, not unclean. That is filth and will have to go. "We definitely need to....." And then the Weyrwoman to be stumbles over herself and curses. "Miniyal, what in the... " At the final crashing of Miniyal, desk, filing cabinet and anything else nearby the Weyrlingmaster's body jerks out of the closet and a violent cracking sound of bone on wood reverberates through the office. Like anyone would have, he attempted to swing his head and body to face the origin of the noise and forgot that he couldn't see out of his left eye. Specifically, what he couldn't see is exactly where the corner of the heavy closet door was. B'rok's forehead and temple on the corner of the furniture is loud and stomach churning and it is violent enough that he loses his balance and drops to his hands and knees. Somewhere in all of it the leather thong that holds his eyepatch in place snaps and the bit of leather bounces guiltily across the floor to land right at Miniyal's feet. A line of red blood bubbles from the nice little gash that he has now. For all of the noise there is pure silence now.

Used to crashes it doesn't much bother Miniyal. However, it's not just her crash and so she turns around while trying to rub her knee and nearly stumbles once more. Luckily she catches herself. "Umm. Are you all right, sir?" No, he's not. Neither is she as that blood appears. "Oh. Umm. I'll go get you something to clean that with." She is no nurse. "It's fine. I mean, really. You're fine. I'll go get a cloth. Yea. And, it doesn't look bad. Probably. Umm." Each sentence comes with a step backwards. Not forwards towards the wounded man. No effort is made to try to return the lost eyepatch either. Just a slow creeping to the door.

Miniyal will have time to get almost to the door before B'rok collects himself. He's a pretty fit guy but that was a real bang on the head. He grabs the tipped-over filing cabinet for support and uses it to drag himself to one knee. Half up. He is exploring the gash with his fingers when he finds out that the eyepatch is gone. Vanity, modesty, and humiliation compels him to cover the empty socket (which fortunately was facing away from her the entire time) with his left hand while the right gropes around blindly. Forced to look up he sees it on the floor still closer to her than him and his fight hand points a trembling index finger at it. "Give. Me. That. Right. Now." Pure ice in his voice. He doesn't yell or curse.

Fleeing could have been faster, but then she would have tripped again. So, instead Miniyal is caught. She freezes and then looks at the floor and then over at the weyrlingmaster. There is still blood there so she looks away as pale skin turns even paler. "Umm. Right. Sir. Yes, sir." Tripping over her feet in her hurry to get to the eyepatch she catches herself on the desk and then leans down to retrieve the item in question. Once it is in her hand she creeps just close enough to hold it out. It's a stretch, but he should be able to grab it.

B'rok snatches the eyepatch in the way in the act of lunging to his feet. A few staggered steps take him to the door and he turns, looking at her with his good eye as his hand remains on his face. He stares towards her for ten seconds or better, before a barking a sentence. "Do something about this." He staggers out down the hallway towards the infirmary and leaves her alone in the empty room with the mess. And all of the poor records. He must have meant the room.

Miniyal doesn't relax until she has the room to herself. She does salute his back as he goes out the door. Of course, she sticks out her tongue at the same time. "Yes, sir." Cue the sarcasm. "Right away, sir. Don't let the room get to be such a mess, sir." And then she goes silent and does start straightening up, saving her further bitchings to be shared with just an amused Peloth.

A new assignment.

2007-07-12T23:15:28Z

Who: Miniyal and B'rok
Where: Weyrlingmaster's office
When: Late morning on day 16, month 1, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.
What: Miniyal officially becomes A Project. And responds to it without having a fit. Yes, I know. It was a surprise to me as well.

7/12/2007

At High Reaches Weyr, it is 11:34 on day 16, month 1, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.

The door to the Weyrlingmaster's door is open and it reveals a cacophony of papers and hides strewn everywhere. Somewhere in the middle of it is a desk, and B'rok is sitting at it humming absolutely tunelessly. To the point that even insects have taken refuge.

Into the mess comes. . .well. . .a mess. A mess by the name of Miniyal who was told to come here after all. So, she appears in the door and knocks twice. "Excuse me, sir? Umm. I was told to come see you." If she sounds puzzled it is only because she hasn't done anything wrong lately and so is unsure why exactly she's been summoned. It's usually just to be yelled at after all.

B'rok stops humming. For Miniyal's sake, really. He hops to his feet and cheerfully gestures towards the chair opposite of the desk. He only has to take a few seconds, just a few, to brush the detritus of his work from it. "Have a seat, Weyrling. And please, don't look so apprehensive. You're not in trouble." He takes his seat and stretches out his legs, looking across the desk at her. "Would you like to help me? I have some things that need to be done, and I think that your talents would be perfect for it. It's a little bit of extra work, but.... I would appreciate it. It isn't an order, though. I could use some administrative help, as you can see. I'm a wingrider, not an administrator."

With an invitation to enter that is just what Miniyal does. Before she sits in the chair she remembers to salute. Barely remembers and then she is seated with her hands folded in her lap. Despite his first words she still looks apprehensive which is, at least, something of an improvement over the last few months where she never looked like she had any sort emotions left at all. "Umm. Like hidework? I could help with that I guess." She looks at the desk and tilts her head over to one side. "Do you have a system in place, sir?"

B'rok smiles at Miniyal conspiratorially. "Well." He begins. "When I get something, if it is about supplies I throw it in that corner. If it is something to do with a Weyrling I try to leave it on the desk. If it is something to do with old lesson plans, I throw them behind the door. And if it is grumblings from the Weyr Leadership I usually throw it on the floor." His arms cross. "I guess it isn't a very good system, but I try to at least stick to doing the same thing." Though his arms are crossed, his hands gesticulate. "The reason I want you, is because I went down to the records room today to see what you had been doing. It's impressive, and I think you're on to something big with it. I'm about reaching the point of boiling over here, and I think I need expert hands to help. Like I said though, it's not an order and I won't be upset with you or treat you any differently if you say no. That said, do you /want/ to do it?" Extra emphasis is placed on the want.

Miniyal looks around the room without saying anything further. She takes in the desk and everything else and her nose wrinkles just a wee little bit. She is, after all, just a wee bit on this side of obsessive compulsive when it comes to such things. "How do you find things?" It is an echo of a question she has asked in the past. It is, after all, an important question. "Although I cannot think of a way to improve on any item that comes from the Weyrleader. Well, burning perhaps."

B'rok smiles a little further. "I use a very logical system, Miniyal. For example. I received a receipt for a request for more firestone a sevenday ago. It is in that corner over there, and because it is a sevenday ago is probably halfway down the pile. I'm left handed and didn't really read it, so it's probably in the right side." When the Weyrleader is mentioned, the Weyrlingmaster finds himself adjusting his eyepatch with a vengeance. He can't quite seem to get it right and comfortable for nearly a minute. "The Weyrleader is... the Weyrleader. We do as we are told." And then he changes the subject. Zoom! "I would have proper filing and storage materials brought in, for you?"

Miniyal frowns just a little and looks in a corner. "Ummm. Right. Well, it doesn't look too bad. I mean, A couple of days is all it would take." Another little frown and she refocuses on the weyrlingmaster. "Well, some of us don't. Which is where the problem arises. Still, there are worse positions to be in than this one, sir." If he doesn't wish to allow the weyrleader to remain in the conversation she is the last one to try to keep him there. So, he is dismissed without a thought. "I would need to know what sort of. . I mean, it would be easy for me to arrange things to make sense to me, but I would need to know what sort of filing system you wanted, sir." Pausing she pushes hair from her eyes and then drops her hand again to twist at her ring. "Umm. Why are you really doing this?" No ulterior motive? That sort of thing doesn't exist in her world.

B'rok looks at Miniyal with an honest and a deadpan expression. "Because I need the help, primarily. And because, I admire the work you did. You are the best person who I can ask." There is complete honesty in his tone. "I'd very much like your help. If you are in agreement, we can go over the filing system later before you start. There are a few other things that we need to talk about today once we get this little bit of business squared away."

"I guess I could at least help you get organized. It's much easier to keep things organized once they are sorted out." Miniyal pauses again and looks down at her hands. Well, not so much pauses as stops. Because there are 'other things' to discuss so she's instantly nervous once more. Around and around the ring goes on her finger. She just waits to see what's wrong now.

B'rok shows no signs of a bad moon rising. "Thank you. I will get you to do a little bit today. We can discuss it later. The first other bit of business is, you'll notice that I pulled you from being Assistant Weyrlingmaster Issa's own assistant. You don't need to report to her for that duty anymore. The other and most important bit of business concerns the extra duties that you have been assigned, as well as the various disciplinary 'efforts' that are ongoing concerning you at the moment." Pausing for effect, he looks at her very seriously. "As of this moment, you are relieved from them. You are on the same status as every other Weyrling. Past transgressions have been forgotten."

Miniyal's head comes up and she blinks once. "Oh. Umm. Why?" If there is a hint of suspicion in her tone it will just have to be excused. Or not, but there it is. "Sorry, sir. I'm just not exactly sure what your angle is here. Umm. No offense. I mean, you know." She has the decency at least to look a little embarrassed. Not much, but a little. And although she tries not to sound too curious about all of this it is her nature and she can't quite /not/ sound curious about what is going on.

B'rok shrugs. "Because I disagree with D'ven and Issa's methods." He says. "They were not benefiting you. You may forget, the goal of punishing someone is to improve them. Not solely to make their lives miserable. Please do not make me wrong, at least. At least, try somewhat to behave." The corners of his mouth flit upwards a small amount to make it seen, though subtly that he is making humor with the try to behave. "Skrath spoke to Peloth at length today. He says that she has a good head on her shoulders."

At the mention of her dragon there is a tiny groan and down goes Miniyal's head again. "Stupid brat." When she looks back up again there is a faint flicker of a smile as she shakes her head. Likely for the brat in question. "I am trying, sir." To behave. She doesn't bother to clarify. "I don't think- I mean, to be fair, sir, I don't think their goal was to make me miserable. I mean, that's not what- Well, anyway. I know I'm not, you know, the best example of anything, but I've learned everything that has been taught."

B'rok splays his fingertips against themselves, each finger resting to its opposite. "Of course it wasn't. But, I remember how I felt as a Weyrling. It is good to be reminded, occasionally, that the staff are not out to get you." He stops talking so that he can think for a few seconds. "I don't think that you are given much credit for the things that you do well. The records room, for example. People just tend to assume that you are good at doing it. Though, that is a compliment in and of itself." He leans into the chair, crossing his arms. "Are you miserable, Miniyal? Please be honest."

Miniyal chews on her lower lip and keeps her head tilted up just enough so it doesn't look completely like she's avoiding eye contact. Which she is, but it doesn't seem like it exactly so that makes it ok. "I'm really good with records. I guess it's like a trade off since I am so horrid with people." Her shoulders shrug as she drops the pretense of looking anywhere but at her hands so she can watch her ring twist around her finger. "I'm not- I'm not miserable, sir. I'm just, I don't know. I don't know how to explain it."

B'rok nods and for a moment his face shows that he understands. "People are difficult, Miniyal. I understand. It is like flying thread, or doing records. Both of them you can see what is coming and you can predict them. The numbers add a certain way, the fall comes a certain way. You approach both from a certain angle with a particular procedure. But people are like neither. Unpredictable, likely to do things you didn't see. Sometimes little things you do affect them adversely, and you can't understand why someone reacted the way they did. You can't tell if people are being honest or not and it's hard to trust your instinct. It's not black and white anymore, there is no clear cut course. And it's hard, I think. At least for me, sometimes." He unclasps his fingers and gestures outwards towards her with both hands. "Try to explain it?" He rises, pushing the door closed. "What is said in here, stays in here."

"I can figure people out. I mean, most of them. I just can't /deal/ with them. I know I have to. And I try, I really do, but it's like there is this preconceived notion of why I do everything." Clasping her hands together to stop the nervous fiddling Miniyal looks up to watch the door being closed. "Sir, I just- Every time I do something I get told I did it wrong. I mean, anything I do on my own is wrong. I keep getting told that I'm supposed to be a future leader of the Weyr and then those same people turn around and smack me when I try to do something that's important. I don't see where sitting around and not doing anything but lessons the whole time I am a weyrling does anything for me, but make be that much farther behind on things once I do graduate. It's not like I am at the bottom of the class or anything." Biting her lip she kicks at the floor since she's stopped twisting her ring. "I'm not. . .It's just I don't want things to be like they are. I know I have no choice. But I still. . .No one would understand."

B'rok nods, understandingly again. "It's still not easy. Plus, people have this problem of completely proving one wrong when you think you have them all figured out. Happens to me, now and again." He pays very good attention to what she says, leaning on his elbows in the mess on the desk while he does. "Doing nothing but lessons the entire time does nothing for you." He says, quietly. "That is the real purpose for the extra time allotted at the end of every day. Where I've been pulling bronzeriders out for extra lessons in wing commanding. I would like to send you to Weyrwoman Roa for a time each day, but she is still convalescing."

He opens up the desk drawer to pull out a bottle, and a glass. "Let me tell you a little story, Miniyal." The glass is filled and he takes a drink of it. "Once upon a time, there was a boy who decided that he wanted to be a dragonrider. Because his parents were. But everyone said you don't want to be a dragonrider, and he listened to them and felt silly about it. So he joined what was the start of ground crews. Thread wasn't falling yet then, and everyone thought he was too eager to do things. They told him to excel at what he did, and whenever he figured out a way to do something better than before he was smacked and told it was no good because people were resistant to change and resistant to the perceived notion that someone with new ideas is muscling in on their turf. He got very tired of it, and was quite dispirited to the point that he did not want to go on. He was miserable because people said he didn't know anything. Time went on, and then the boy impressed a bronze dragon."

"And as thread got closer and people started to panic, he was asked to go and train the ground crews of Lord and Lady Holders in his new ideas and he realized that there wasn't anything wrong with his methods, but that people's insecurity made them instinctively react badly to something that they regarded as important... even if they didn't want to do it themselves. It was just politics, and people are notoriously uncomfortable about their positions." He opens his hands again, to gesture outwardly. "I keep telling you, that you will be a leader soon. And while there are some things that you still need to learn.... everything changes, once you are in that position. But part of learning to be a leader is putting aside feelings we have for those people. That..." He pauses, lowering his voice. "Doesn't make the hurt and confusion any easier though, sometimes. But it does explain it a little."

While the talking part of conversation doesn't always go well for her, Miniyal has the listening part down pretty good. Other than the occasional kick of one boot against the floor she doesn't move and she watches him as he speaks. It's an almost unnerving sort of stare she uses, but at least she does seem to be listening and paying attention. "It's just what is important to me is not necessarily important to anyone else, sir. And I can't stop it from being important just because no one else sees it that way. And I can't sit around and wait for permission to act all the time. I know I can't be like I was before. I know it's not just my reputation anymore, but the Weyr's as well. But if an opportunity presents itself I can't /not/ take it. And if people get mad then they get mad. It's not like I haven't had people mad at me before." Fingers twitch here and she stops to unlace them from each other to return to the previous worrying of her ring. "Gans told me once that just because something I wanted to do would get me in trouble didn't mean I shouldn't do it. That I should get in trouble. If something is important than you /have/ to do it. You can't just. . .sit still. That's just as bad as doing something wrong. Not trying to fix something, I mean."

Skrath was not bothered by Peloth's scrutiny, and B'rok sits confidently in Miniyal's. He tells his story quietly and when he is done, he shuts up so that the Weyrling can speak. "Of course. No good leader ever sat quietly through a Weyrlinghood or any form of education and did not ask questions or push the rules. That is just how things are. The quiet ones who sit and follow every single rule to the letter and never once speak out are those without ambition and will always be followers. You can look around you and see that in your wing now. Getting caught is part of that and eventually you either learn better ways to go about it, or the ability to disguise your actions better. It is sort of like parenting, I guess, this position. If I were responsible for raising a young child who followed my every instruction, I would think that there was something wrong with them. At the same time, if I catch you in something I have to punish you because that is how things work, but I understand. That is the reason I lifted the restrictions from you. There comes a time where there is just too much." He looks down at the desk, his eye wandering across the many-pitted surface of the ancient wood.

"G'thon was correct to tell you that. One of the most important things that I teach my bronzeriders is, when an emergency comes that you have to make a decision. Don't worry about weather or not it is the correct decision, if you make an error you make an error. The important thing is that the decision was made at the time."

B'rok adds. "This sounds a little odd coming from someone who's job it is to bust you when you do these sorts of things, but try to understand my shoes. I am wanting you to know how my beliefs are different."

There are plenty of responses she could give to all of that. In days past she could have gone on for hours on just one sentence. If she had desired to. However, it is not days past and while her mind goes through all of the responses she might offer she comes up with a simple one. Just a few words that sum things up quite nicely at the moment. "I miss him."

The Weyrlingmaster's own reply is very short too. He asks a question in a soft, careful tone. "Have you really been letting yourself miss him, Miniyal?" His speaking is below conversational level, and there is not a tiny bit of agression or anything negative in his voice.

"I'm not the sort of person who has an emotional breakdown over. . .whatever." Ok, well, so it's a small little fib. But, close enough to the truth for Miniyal right now. Stopping any motion of her ring she folds her hands tightly together and looks up and in the general vicinity of the weyrlingmaster. "Everyone- I mean, I just have to keep going. Everyone was watching me like they expected me to just lose it completely or to flounder because he wasn't telling me what to do and I couldn't give anyone cause to say it. And then- after." It hardly needs be said what after. There is really only one after he died. "Like I shouldn't still love him just because of what he did. Like it should overshadow everything else. I don't agree with what he did. I hate what he did. But I don't hate him."

"Hardly whatever." B'rok interjects this before she looks up with the second bit. "It must have taken a lot of strength not to show weakness these last months. To your fellow Weyrlings, or to anyone else." With his fingernail, he scratches carefully at one of the pits in the desk. It sends little grating sounds around the room. "Some say that it wasn't G'thon that did it. Or Ganathon. That it was the shock and anger of losing Hirth that made him do it. There are a few who don't like you, but there are a few too who say that he was his happiest with you. That you stopped him from becoming something even worse, and made him G'thon again. There are two sides to every opinion, you know."

"It wasn't-" Now he gets some small real emotion, sure it's anger, but still. It doesn't last and instead she clears her throat and tries again more calmly. "The Masterharper said that it wasn't because of Hirth. And he knew him a long time. I trust his opinion." Miniyal's words come to an end as she taps one foot on the floor. "It's just that. . .Sorry, anyway. It's not important, sir."

"Then I will trust the Masterharper's opinion as well." He says, quietly. "It would be nice to know what actually happened. G'thon and I shared a rough time together, as 'riders. Figuring out the fall, watching people getting killed around us." He stops talking though, and gestures. "I am sorry as well. Please. It's just that...?"

With a quiet sigh the tapping of her foot stops. "I wish I knew." Which is an easier way of saying that it drives her crazy not knowing. "Nothing, sir. Was there anything else you wished to discuss?" And just like that Miniyal slams the door on the conversation from before. Yep. No more.

B'rok shakes his head slowly. "No." He says. "That would be all. Come and see me later today and we will discuss the filing. Only the filing." It is a little add so that she can not worry. "Thank you for taking the time to talk to me today. You are dismissed when you want to leave."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Rising up from her chair she finds a salute and then steps around the chair. Miniyal tucks her hair back behind her ears as she heads for the door. Once there she opens it and pauses. "I don't think anyone who gets this job wants it, sir. I mean, if you look back historically. Most tend to see it as some sort of step back or something. I don't know if that is the case with you or not. I just, you know? I don't think you should see it that way. When you do you miss out on things. Just look at all the turns the dumb ass wasted." Ahem. Likely she means R'vain. Likely she doesn't need to be calling the Weyrleader that in front of someone she doesn't know. But, she does so anyway. With even a tiny little smile to go with it. Very tiny. Then she slips out the door.

If the Weyrlingmaster has a reply to Miniyal about his being placed in this position, it is hidden behind the nod and half smile that he gives her on her away out. And the adjustment of his eyepatch.

Hiding

2007-07-12T18:33:30Z

Who: Peloth and Skrath
Where: Around the bowl
When: Mid-morning on day 14, month 1, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.
What: Skrath pays a visit to Peloth so they might discuss the Miniyal Problem. Peloth is a sneaky brat. Who would be 'only trying to help.'

7/11/2007

At High Reaches Weyr, it is 10:44 on day 14, month 1, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.

It is not often that Peloth is found here when not needed elsewhere. She prefers to be somewhere she can observe the comings and goings of people she might be curious about. However, while her rider sits and complains to her about being in a boring classroom she is stretched out on her couch. Her eyes whirl slowly and even though occasionally one of her clutchmates wanders in or out she seems content to let them be and not engage them for now.

Skrath is not a clutchmate but he is still entering. Unhurried and with his head turning to and fro he is just conducting his tri-daily inspection of the barracks and making sure that everything is all right among those he is in charge of. As he passes by Peloth he stops and turns his head towards her with his eyes colored placidly. << Come for a walk with me, Peloth. I would like to talk to you about some things. >> Turning as soon as he is finished he begins to walk slowly towards the exit.

Peloth's head lifts when she is spoken to and she gives the bronze a look. Her wings extend to stretch out as she rises up to her feet. << Of course. I was bored of lying here. >> Clearly she will follow after him because it amuses her and not because he has asked. There is just a hint of that amusement in her cool tone. A look around at those she leaves behind and there is no hurrying after him. She does not hurry.

Skrath waits for Peloth just outside of the Weyrling Cavern and then shuffles into a meandering pace near to her. He has no end destination and wanders in anything but a straight line as he decides how to bring up his thoughts. He chooses bluntly. << Does Miniyal have any friends? Any Weyrlings that she likes to talk to? She has you of course, but I mean other people. B'rok is worried about her because he can not understand what he is supposed to do with her, and I have come to see if I can do something for him. >>

Straight lines are for chumps. Peloth would say so if she were asked. Meandering around in circles and jagged lines brings about much more satisfying results. Whatever results are expected. << There are some she speaks to. There are not many she speaks to. It is not her way. >> Her silence following those words has a thoughtful quality to it. Which carries over into her next words. << What should he do with her? I do not understand why he must do something with her. Explain. >>

Skrath stops here and there to lower his head and investigate a rock or two before doubling back and crossing paths with Peloth. More and more his direction is towards the bowl's rim however. << Nor is it the way of mine. But I have learned over many years of supervising B'rok that men and women do things that are bad for themselves because they think it is easier. >> He stops and lies down in a place of shade with his eyes watching Peloth's movements down to a subtle level. << B'rok is concerned because he believes that Miniyal is moving farther and farther away from being a Weyrwoman. He thinks that instead of facing her problems she is hiding from them. >>

A touch of indignation enters her tone, overlaying the cool. <> When Skrath stops walking so does the gold, but she does not settle onto the ground. Instead Peloth stretches out too big wings once more and watches the bronze. << You must move slowly with her. Carefully. It is like hunting something smart. If you hurry about you only wind up with your face in the dirt. She is hiding from them. But I have let her. Sometimes she needs to hide. I had to wait. >>

Skrath mindspeaks with tones that are gentle and almost soothing, choosing his words carefully and specifically. << You speak of G'thon. >> Everyone does know about it, after all. << And there is wisdom and understanding in what you say. But all is not yet well, and perhaps she needs further help yet. But it is a touchy, difficult thing as you know. There is no good way to offer her help or get her to take it or even a clear way to aid her. But, all the while she strays farther from where she must be. >> Gently in the manner of his voice, Skrath projects an image of Miniyal making her way out of the barracks late at night. It is from very high above as though Skrath happened to be flying over. << Where does she go, to be alone when you are asleep or even when you are awake? Not just the records room? What does she do by herself? >> His eyes search her.

Peloth is no snitch. Unless she has to be. << She has places she goes. >> There will be no giving away of secret spots. However, she has her issues with what her rider does in those spots so she will speak of them. Her tone modulates back to her usual silver cool. << Sometimes she would drink. Not anymore. I have made her stop. It is not acceptable how much she wanted to do. So, now I watch her. >> The impression being she does not sleep at night if Miniyal has gone sneaking out. Now she settles to the ground to sit primly so she might watch the one who watches her. << It is hard to find the right people to help. I must be careful. Sometimes they are more trouble than help. The process to determine whom to go to is not simple. I will not have someone hurting her. >>

Skrath listens. He is very good at this, with his body language carefully controlled to be positive and therefore subtly encourage the Gold to keep speaking. << Does she still drink at all, now? B'rok will not be furious and will not be angry, just concerned. >> His face swings away from Peloth to nibble at an itch beneath one of his wings and it occupies his attention as a few dragons fly overhead. When that henious itch is tackled he is ready to talk again. << We have a difficult task, you and I and many others like us. So many think that the rider looks after the dragon but it is not so. Yours and mine they have great difficulties. I would not have someone hurt mine any further either. >> He stands up to pace a lazy circle around Peloth. << Mine does not want to just discipline her and push her out of the way, graduate her and forget about it. Mine wants to help because she will be needed in the coming years and because he does not like seeing someone suffering. He is smart. That is why they made him Weyrlingmaster. He can help once he decides how. >>

<< She will drink. I would not stop her entirely. Then she would think I was trying to control things. >> Peloth sits still and ignores the pace around her. She does ruffle her wings and stretch her neck up so she might appear more adult and regal. Somehow it fails even when she tries so hard. Not as bad as it used to but no matter how hard she tries to be all grown-up she isn't yet. << He is smart. She does not respond well to such things. To telling her what to do. Although she often needs it. I would find it beneficial for him to assist her. She is sad although she will always be sad. Well, she is less sad. Although that makes her more sad. It is fine, of course, because she would not be her otherwise, but sometimes it is wearisome. She feels like she is being treated like a child and then scolded when she is not what others expect an adult to be. >>

Skrath stops a second time and sits down, his body language as carefully articulate as ever. Really, much more so now that he is reaching the cusp of what it is that he has come here to find out. << Mine believes that he has been asked to train people to be functional members of the Weyr. Ignoring the problem and getting angry at it and lashing out with restrictions and punishments does not help. No, B'rok and I both believe that if Miniyal is ever to be helped it will be through other ways. In your opinion, Peloth, what can B'rok do to help? >>

Peloth is in no rush to answer. Instead she stretches her neck and looks up at the sky. As if she must consider it before she answers but soon enough she turns her attention towards the bronze she speaks with. << She /is/ a functional member of the Weyr. >> First things first and she stresses this more than anything else in the conversation so far. << She has done much for our home. It is not too much to expect that it does something for her now. If he wishes to help her- >> And she stops and looks away. Lalala.

Skrath is in no rush to hear, either. In fact, when Peloth pauses for effect he lowers his head to scratch at his itch again and flops right over on his side in the attempt to satisfy it. << Of course. B'rok thinks that the records work that she is doing is a wonderful idea. Among other things. But she must be ready to help lead our Weyr through this pass. >> Boy, it feels good to work that itch. And another one on his hip. That's a pretty color of blue up there on that dragon. He'll wait for her, and not be concerned at all.

Peloth observes the scratching and the flopping the way one observes a dog rolling around in something on the lawn. << She is not the sort of leader like those who are here already. That is all. >> Because she is better, of course. Not that she would ever say it as she doesn't /need/ to. After all, of course she is better. << It is not her way to act in front of others. I am not sure she believes that she is able to. She is good at what she does, but it is perhaps not what people think of as a leader. That is all. It is just they do not understand. >>

Skrath nibbles at his itches a small amount more. << Of course she is not the same as those who are already here. B'rok is different too. I know you have seen. I am certain that she will do well, but she must be guided and molded a little bit more. And part of that will be helping her. >> He is still waiting for her to come out with whatever it was that it may have been. << Does she think that she can be a leader? >>

Peloth slowly eases herself down to the ground to stretch out. Her tail behind her whips slowly back and forth. << No. But she has never intended to be one. We are working on it. She does not play well with others. >> It's a favorite phrase of hers. << She is too smart. She thinks. >> A pause as one wing stretches and then settles back against her. << Too much. You do not change her by being direct. You must work around the thinking. >>

Skrath would shrug here if he was a human. But instead he just inclines his head because he is a member of the better species. << It is good that you are. Unlike some, mine knows that if yours would not make a leader you would not have chose her. He however, must make sure that her potential is realized. >> His wings extend and his body arches in a very, very long stretch. << Let us not meander around the conversation for a time. What needs to be done for Miniyal? >>

Oh, sure, get to the point! Where is the fun in that? It's more fun to sneak around and slyly work up to things and never say things straight. But, Peloth seems to know when she is beat and so she lays her head down upon her paws. << It is more fun meandering. >> Swish goes the tail back and forth. << But, as you wish. >> As if she has granted him a boon in dismissing her usual manner. << Approval. She feels like she is not doing anything right. And she gets bored. We try to stay entertained, but there is not enough thinking. >> Just to contradict things.

Skrath broadcasts a feeling of amusement. << That it is, Peloth. If it were not for B'rok, I would care not for work and meander everywhere. Another way we complete each other. We may meander later, but this thing called duty and work prevents it.>> He thinks about what Peloth has to say, dropping back into a lying position. << Do you mean to tell me, that not once has anyone complimented her on doing a good job... and has meant it? >>

Peloth's head lifts up and she studies the bronze for a minute before down goes her head again. << I think what she does that is seen as incorrect overshadows anything good she might do. It is hard to tell someone they have done a good job if since then they have broken your rules. Also, she does not believe people mean it. She does not break them because she does not respect them. >> Of course not. Swish goes her tail again clearing out what snow lays on the ground in its path. << She does it to see if she can. To see how it is done. She says it is important to understand how one does not follow things as well as how one follows them. I think it is an excuse. But it makes sense in its own way. >>

Skrath listens, attentive and particular about the details and the inflections in her mind voice. << B'rok would probably agree, but I am not going to tell him. He did his share of making trouble and look at him now. He will be somewhere, someday despite what he thinks about why he is Weyrlingmaster. I will tell him about her feelings, and a few other things. We will see if we can make a little bit of a change over time. Subtly. Carefully. Sneakily. >> He stands up and stretches, extending his wings so far that the tips drag in the snow. << You are interesting to talk to, Peloth. Thank you for your time today. Maybe we can meander later, when your work and my work is done. >> And then with an extension and flex of his hind limbs he flings himself into the air and is gone. Poof.

There is some preening to do once she has been called interesting. Peloth Lifts her head and stretches her wings and stands up. Almost like an all over body stretch that a cat does. << It is good you listen to me. >> Yes, that is what she gets out of all this. Well, that she shares. << We will talk again. >> The last is sent just as he launches himself into the air with her cool tone modulating into some amused warmth. Then she meanders off herself towards the feeding pen.

In which our heroine meets the new guy.

2007-07-09T17:15:20Z

Who: Miniyal and B'rok
Where: Weyrlingmaster's office
When: 15:22 on day 24, month 13, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: The new weyrlingmaster meets with one of his charges. Who is not a troublemaker and who, despite appearances, did make some effort in the conversation.

7/2/2007 & 7/9/2007

At High Reaches Weyr, it is 15:22 on day 24, month 13, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.

The office is a mess. Hidework and things of the kind are everywhere. B'rok is still moving in, is very bad at organization or both. He is standing behind his desk when the knock comes and takes a minute to self-consciously adjust his eyepatch before he says anything. "Come on in." After he sees who it is, he inclines his head towards a chair in front of the desk. "Sit, Please. Your name and lifemate?"

It's not the first time in her life she's come into this office. She was familiar with it from before impression as well. So, Miniyal has to take a moment to look around the room and check things out. It distracts her some so it takes a second for her to recall what is going on and offer a salute to the newest weyrlingmaster. That done she moves to the chair indicated and sits down primly, back straight and hands folded in her lap just so. "Miniyal, sir. Peloth's."

B'rok rummages through the pile of hides on his desk to draw out a particular one, his good eye reading from that after he hears her name. It is a longish hide and must be quite a file on her. "I am B'rok, Bronze Skrath's. But you already knew that." He crosses his arms with the hide still in his hand and leans his shoulder blades informally against the wall as he looks at her. "I understand that there have been some issues during your time as a Weyrling for you. Some say that you are a problem Weyrling, Miniyal. What is your opinion on that judgement?"

"Oh, it's entirely correct, sir," Miniyal answers without hesitation. "I had issues with the way your predecessor ran things. I made those concerns known. Well, you have the file. I object to the notion that beating people into submission is the proper way to train them in anything, sir. There are ways to teach without first knocking the feet out from under someone and convincing them they're no good and must perfectly conform with everything else." Blinking once she tilts her head, opens her mouth to add something, and then changes her mind so sits quietly.

B'rok shows no sign of liking or disliking Miniyal's response. "I have the file, yes." He had, that is because it is tossed disdainfully on the desk. "But I prefer to make my own judgements and assessments." He folds his hands behind his back and pushes himself away from the wall. "Furthermore, I believe that needing to think for yourself is essential. I have no intention of training my weyrlings to be like crawlies in a colony. You wouldn't last two falls." He turns his head, the steel blue of his remaining eye aiming at her. "I'm sorry. You were going to say?" Expectancy is large in his voice.

Miniyal's fingers move and she absently twists at the ring on her finger. It's the only movement she allows herself but it does make the perfect sort of fidgeting gesture. "Nothing, sir. I've nothing else to add. I cause trouble. I don't necessarily mean to, but ask anyone. I do, no matter my intentions it turns out to create some sort of trouble for someone. Or so I have been told. I'm doing my best to not do anything. I suppose it's working well enough. Other than the desire to jump off a ledge and end the boredom." She's such an honest girl. Who can't quite control what she says.

"D'ven and I have different methods. Give mine a chance. Come and see me if you have issues with something in my training. I give you my word that I will at least hear out your concerns and see what I am able to do. I don't know what happened between you and him, and I don't want to. Let's start this out right, though, mm?" His pacing is ended when he sits back down into his chair. "What would you like to do to keep busy, then? Forcing yourself to be idle is not very constructive for anyone, especially you. You're going to be a leader of this Weyr someday, during a pass at that. Don't you think there are things you should be learning and doing?"

"Starting out right isn't one of my strong suits, sir. But as far as novel concepts go, it is not bad." Miniyal doesn't smile when she says this and while that might have been a wee bit of amusement in her tone it is well hidden beneath a more neutral tone. "It's not constructive, sir, but I'm supposed to be toeing the line. Which means doing exactly what I am told and nothing else. Or else. It is not as if I am not learning what I am told to learn, sir. I just don't need the time to learn it that someone else might. I'm very smart, sir. I don't need to sit in a class for a seven to learn something. I just need to hear something once. So, I get bored. And that creates trouble. Look, it's just. . .I don't know." Pausing she frowns and stops twisting her ring a moment as she sighs. "Look, just tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it."

B'rok allows a little bit of empty air to come after Miniyal's explanation of herself. "Would it be fair then, to say that you are doing exactly what you are told and little else?" His body language and facial expressions are not negative at all, and he is waiting for an answer before he says any more.

Miniyal closes her eyes slightly longer than a blink. Her fingers stop twisting at her ring and she instead looks down at it. "Have you seen my schedule, sir? I don't have time to do anything but what I am told to do. D'ven and Issa were attempting to teach me a lesson. Or something. I'm lucky I have time to take a bath and it's a constant stream of complaints from the brat that her extra baths have been cut short like it's my fault she's got this obsession with bathing after taking three breaths in a row which, apparently, will make one too dirty to exist." She may complain about the habits of her gold, but there is, when taking about her at least, some real emotion in her words. At least she's normal enough to be attached to something.

"Would it be fair to say that if you had your own choice, that you would still only do what you are told to and little else?" The revisement of the question comes in a not-unkind voice. "I am just trying to get a better idea of your motivations, Miniyal. Why you do what you do. I have a limited amount of months to make a Weyrwoman out of you, afterall. It concerns me that you, along with everyone else has branded you as a problem Weyrling and does not seem to be going the right route for you to fix it."

"I'm not trying, sir, to act like I expect special treatment." Pausing, shaking her head, Miniyal frowns. "Exactly. I mean, no more than anyone else. I mean, everyone has something they're really good at and being forced to endure it because everyone else does. . ." Trailing off she twists her ring more around and around her finger. "Well, popular theory is that there's nothing you can do. Not that I am saying I hold with it, but if I turn out horribly I don't figure you need to worry about being blamed. I'm- not sure, sir. Motivation is hard to come by these days for me." Since a certain old man died. She seems to think there's no need to explain when exactly her motivation fled.

"I was never good at accepting other people's judgements in place of my own. At this moment in my mind, you are no different than any other Weyrling. In terms of ... special treatment as well as disciplinary record if you will. I cannot make any changes to the demands that others have made for a short time at least, but... " His elbows thunk onto the desk, hands gesticulating questioningly. "What would make you try to be a good weyrling again? By good, one who thinks for herself and who takes on added material in things she is curious about. One that shows some promise of acting like a leader again. I have the feeling that you don't try and have not for weeks. Am I right, or wrong in that belief? Trying to do nothing does not count either."

Around and around the ring goes. As her fingers busy themselves with that task Miniyal watches them. It beats watching anything else or risking the dreaded eye-contact. "I don't sleep at night, sir. Maybe an hour. Sometimes two, but never all at once. Lying awake on a cot for eight hours doesn't exactly prepare me for a new day. I'm not asking to be allowed to run free all night, but surely there's something that might be worked out. It's just not. . .good. Right now for me to be stuck like that. I'm not thinking of anything constructive. Umm. As for extra material, you might want to reconsider that, sir. I don't exactly find the usual things of interest. And neither the Weyrleader or Weyrwoman are ever really thrilled when I do something outside of what is expected of me."

B'rok is not a very pleasant man to make eye contact with either. One covered socket and another that is twice as piercing to make up for it. "Then what do you find of interest?" He asks. "You see, I have to think that you want to help yourself. That you want to make your self at least more comfortable and that you would not want to be put back into similar restrictions. Anyway, what would you do if I granted you extra time at night?"

He adds: "To be more specific, what would you use it for?"

Miniyal's head tilts from one side to the other as she watches her ring. When she cannot twist it any longer for whatever reason she laces her fingers together. "Research. Writing. I've several projects, sir, I have been working on. And, I am trying to find time to make a copy of something for the Masterharper. So, that when I might go visit him I can be sure it is complete." Frowning thoughtfully she glances over for a moment in the general direction of the weyrlingmaster. "The records room here is lacking in several areas as well. I am trying to fill in the gaps. With things I have found elsewhere. To enlighten everyone about the history of the weyr, sir. And it is easier to do it with the written word. Since my motives are called into question. I guess no one thinks I can be altruistic. My own comfort means little, sir. However, I am trying to not have Peloth suffer."

B'rok folds his hands into each other and places his fingertips against fingers. "That would be correct. Your own comfort does mean little, but far more than your comfort is at stake. Apparently, the last Weyrlingmaster thought it acceptable that you exist. I would like you to do well, and I am not above keeping you in the Weyrling Program for an extended period. So, I would like to get some of these issues at least on the mend. I don't demand that you be happy, just that we find some way to improve." His hands spread open and his voice and words trail to a close. "The only reason I am not inclined to grant your request is that I do not think isolating yourself will help either. But I do believe I can think of a compromise."

"I hardly think, sir, that it is any more isolated than lying awake while everyone else sleeps. Trust me, they sleep. I have been listening to it for the last several months." Miniyal shrugs lightly and looks down at her hands to conceal whatever expression she might be considering. "It's your program, sir. Whatever compromise you think would work is going to be the best I can get." Now she looks back up with a sparing glance towards the weyrlingmaster. "As for the other, yes, I've already been threatened with being forced to remain here until I behave properly. It's not like it matters at this point, sir."

B'rok shrugs slowly. "I'm not threatening you, Miniyal. And it isn't about behavior. I am more concerned with your ability to function as a leader than your behavior. Weyrlings have certain things that are expected of them but in the end, it does not matter so much in terms of the Weyr's success if a Weyrling has problems saluting when they are supposed to. Not that you should stop doing so. I'm not out to get you or to make your life miserable. It is just my job to ensure that you are fit to carry out what will be asked of you. Do you understand?" Slowly, he adjusts his eyepatch a little bit to the right. "You may have your time at night in the records room, on three conditions. One, it does not impact your performance. Two, you take another Weyrling with you for at least a portion of the time and three, it does not impact their performance. There are others who suffer from the same sleeping problem that you do."

Miniyal tips her head down and starts to twist her ring once more. "It's not going to impact my performance, sir. Thank you." She stops twisting the ring long enough to lift a hand and tuck loose hair behind her ears. That done she returns to the nervous ring twisting. Which takes up enough of her brain that she doesn't find anything else to say.

The Weyrlingmaster nods, fiddling with his little eyepatch some more. "I expect to see others with you. And I will be checking. I will speak to Issa.... about you, and we will see what we come to a decision about considering some of your restrictions. Do you have any other questions, concerns or things you feel you ought to be telling me?"

"I'll find someone." There is, perhaps, in Miniyal's tone something to indicate she will find a willing participant one way or another. Not that she is a bully. She just will find someone. One way or the other. "I know it may seem like I am just trying to- I don't know, sir. I'm not avoiding anything. I'm not just skating through here. I just- I don't know. Anyway, sir, no. There's nothing else. Thank you for your time." Since it appears dismissal is fast approaching she stands up, but makes no move yet for the exit.

B'rok nods a second time and stands up. "Dismissed, then." He crosses to open the door for her and then stops. "I'm not out to get you. If you have problems, come and see me." And then he shows her out and returns to his desk.
Miniyal doesn't find a need to have the last word. She just salutes and shows herself out. The last word can be saved for some other time surely. She's being nice to the new guy or something.

Is this yours?

2007-07-06T01:41:14Z

Who: H'kon and Wistella (NPC)
Where: Nursery
When: 16:49 on day 2, month 1, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.
What: H'kon finds something that belongs to the nannies. So, he ventures into their lair where he meets Wistella. Who, as always, has kind words for the brownrider.

7/5/2007

At High Reaches Weyr, it is 16:49 on day 2, month 1, turn 4 of the 7th Pass.

No matter how busy she is the head nanny at the Weyr always finds time to stop in and visit her charges. Some nannies upon reaching a level where they do not /have/ to deal with children do not. But, Wistella is not most nannies. She enjoys visiting with the children who are her responsibility. It is also a way to keep an eye on those who work under her. While she is known as one of the biggest gossips at High Reaches she does not use it in a professional capacity. So, she pops in at any time of day she finds a spare hour or two to see how things are going. Right now she's seated in a rocker holding a little girl who is probably about five turns old. The little girl is crying, down to tears and snuffles, but she has the look of someone who just gone done having a fit.

H'kon is not the type to actually enter the nursery unless he has to. Usually, the toys he's taken upon himself to fix find are nabbed from a box near the entrance, without his having to walk into the battlefield proper. Today, however, the brownrider makes an exception. And by the look of him - and the cargo he's carrying - he isn't here to fix toys. Wearing a scowl deeper than his usual, H'kon has a boy who looks to be about four held under one arm, as one might hold a rolled up blanket, rather than child. The boy has a scowl to match H'kon's (though, thankfully, otherwise looks nothing like the man who hauls him), surely a result of being caught from wherever it was he was making a break for. Brownrider recognises head nanny, and he stomps right on up to that rocker, his charge bouncing with each step, and occasionally pushing against the man's side in what have become half-hearted attempts to escape - done more for the sake of doing them, than for the possibility of actual success. "I believe this belongs here."

Wistella looks up from the petting and cooing of the no longer crying girl. "Oh, Naden. Did you get out again?" A rhetorical question since it appears he did just that. She places the girl on her feet and withdraws from her pocket a small bag from which she pulls out a piece of red hard candy. This goes to the girl who gets her hair ruffled before being sent off with a, "Go on now, Velma." Once the girl is gone the head nanny rises to her feet. "Thank you so much for returning him. He seems to be all in one piece so must not have been gone long."

There is no move, it might be noted, to take the kid from the rider.

H'kon glances down to his charge, scowl meets scowl, and then the rider's attention is back to Wistella, expression turning expectant after a few moments are waited out. Naden's next attempt at freedom comes with a little child-grunt, and this is enough for H'kon to heft the boy enough to jostle him well enough that he's, instead, clinging to the rider briefly for fear of falling. "He does this often?"

"Oh, he's always trying to get out. To go see his mother in the stables. He's got a thing for the runners out there. Takes after his mother. I had her in here too." Wistella grins at Naden and still doesn't try to take him. "Poor little guy. He can get out no matter how many people are watching him. He just sneaks on out. He was alone though? Sometimes he sneaks out with his sister." She pauses and turns her head to look about the nursery. "Ah, no. There's Floren. She's just two turns older than him. Such a sweet girl."

H'kon spares a sour glance toward the sister of the brat. "Perhaps if all the people you have here cannot watch him, you should look to finding better people for the job." Another annoyed heft is given to the boy, who promptly squirms so that his stomach isn't pushed up against the brownrider's thick arm, and he can breath a bit better. Wistella will now have both H'kon and Naden looking expectantly to her.

Wistella smiles, showing off deep dimples as her green eyes sparkle. "Well, rider H'kon," is it ever good when they know your name? No. "If you think you can do better you are welcome to come down here some day and spend some time seeing how the other half earn their keep." Naden is winked at and she wiggles long plump fingers at him in greeting. "Shame on you, Naden." Surely she does not sound amused. That would be wrong.

H'kon scowls at this. "My job is not to watch these," heft, "children." Now, H'kon turns so that the side of him bearing the kid is nearer to Wistella. "Here," is added, and the boy gets another heft. This one finds his shoulder hitting H'kon's ribs, and they grunt in unison. Aww.

"I do believe he possesses feet." Wistella points this out with a grin and a gesture towards the bottom end of Naden. "You can set him down on them if you like." Because she is not going to take him and she makes this clear by putting her hands on her hips. "And, I am aware that it is not your job to watch the /children/. They are not things. However, if you are going to make accusations about us not doing our job perhaps you might like to learn how hard that job is to do."

"A difficult job is no excuse to do it improperly." And Naden is set down. Well, dropped down. The boy stumbles a bit, but a hand to H'kon's leg keeps him balanced. H'kon ignores him as best he can, and Naden is off to play with his sister. Or maybe to organise an escape on a larger scale. "And no. They are not things." This, strangely doesn't sound repentant, but almost disappointed. Maybe because things are predictable and controllable.

Wistella draws herself up, hands still on her hips. "Now see here. You better not come in here and imply that there was some impropriety going on with what happened. You don't know the story. You got no right to come in here and make these accusations." She watches Naden run off with a fond smile on her face. "He's a good little scamp. He doesn't make any trouble. And here you are saying all these things."

H'kon takes a breath, lets it out. "He might well make trouble. He was on his way to the bowl. I would assume the cold would keep him out now, but if the weather is warmer, if a dragon doesn't see him? He could get hurt." Exactly to whom that 'he' is referring is up for grabs. "And this happens frequently, you have said so. I would suggest only that you find a way to keep him and his like under control."

"We have a way to keep them under control. But sometimes they get out anyway. It's a known quantity." Wistella seems generally unconcerned about the occasional escape of a child. She smiles an engaging smile. "We've always got fine men and women who will see a scamp and bring him or her back. It's not a problem. They don't get into the bowl. Likely Naden was lurking waiting for someone to see him and bring him back. He gets tired after running around and all. And, you did. Thank you so much! Would you like a candy?"

H'kon draws himself up to his full and unimpressive height, and tugs at the base of his tunic. "I would not like a candy," is pointed out quite quickly and darkly. Nevermind that the word 'candy' has got a few kidlets looking wistfully toward Wistella. "If that is all you intend to do, then, I will go."

The little bag in her pocket which was on its way out is slipped back in. "Very well then. Thank you so much for returning him to us, rider." Wistella notices those wistful glances, but the candy is returned anyway. It is a treat, after all, and not something to just be handed you.

One day, H'kon may understand the social intricacies of candy from the nannies. For now, the brownrider gives Wistella a nod, shoots a careful look to Naden, where he's whispering things to his sister, and with a nod, turns and stalks on out of the nursery. The place surely looks brighter once he's gone.

Wistella watches the brownrider leave with a cheerful smile. Once he is gone she remarks in general, "What a nice man. You kids be sure and say hello to him if you see him, yes?" Eager voices chorus agreement and are given candy as a result. For the next seven H'kon will be greeted by a chorus of hellos whenever he might be in the same room as children.

Behaving around the baby.

2007-07-04T21:40:04Z

Who: Miniyal and Roa
Where: North Weyr
When: Afternoon on day 27, month 13, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: Miniyal brings a gift by from her parents to the new mom. There is conversation of a brief nature. It does not involve anything that might upset a newborn.

7/4/2007

As far as infants go, Jashin is probably a good one for a beginner. There hasn't been a lot of screaming (relatively) coming from the North Weyr since he showed up a few days ago, and though the weyrwoman has been scarce, word seems to be that she's doing well. Just this afternoon, Roa's a bit underdressed to be anywhere but home in loose, baggy breeches so worn they've faded from black to grey, a warm button-down shirt that, from the way the cuffs are rolled and rolled, was probably Ashwin's once, and her hair in a simple braid that falls down her back. On her feet, heavy socks. The fire crackles in the hearth and Tialith drowses on her couch as Roa walks a slow circle between the couches and the bed, the lump that used to be protruding from her belly now cradled up against her shoulder, instead.

A nice domestic scene such as what goes on in the weyr cannot be allowed to continue uninterrupted. That would make things much too normal. So, there comes upon the door a quiet knocking from the other side. Not too loud as if the person doing the knocking does not wish to bother anyone who might be sleeping. Miniyal shuffles her feet and once she's knocked switches a small something, flat and wrapped in plain hide, from one hand to the other.

The weyrwoman's head lifts a little, her thoughts snapping back from wherever they wandered. She takes a few steps towards the door and then pauses to glance down at the baby. She smirks, head shaking. "What tehy'll when I open the door like this..." she informs him but a few more steps take Roa to the door, and that's precisely what she does.

When the door opens the various fidgeting stops and Miniyal looks from mother to baby and then clears her throat. "Is this a bad time?" There are whole new reasons for it to be a bad time so the question asked makes perfect sense. Not just because it's the same question she asks in some variation or the other every time she shows up at the door. "Umm. My parents asked me to bring this by." The hand holding the package lifts a bit. See? Something.

The weyrwoman blinks in mild surprise but she shakes her head as Jay twitches one foot at the sound of this new voice. "If it was a bad time, you probably would have heard it through the door." Jashin's other foot kicks and, though there's not a whole lot of motion options available when one is under a sevenday old, he still manages to make himself look restless. Roa steps back and turns the baby around so grey-blue eyes can study the woman in the doorway, rather than the weyr behind his mother's back. He settles, limp again, to simply and openly stare up at Miniyal. "Please come in," Roa says. "Don't mind the audience."

"Oh. It's fine. They can't even focus more than a little bit away from their face at that age." As if, otherwise, the audience might have been an issue. Well, it is Miniyal so it just might have. "They were going to bring it by themselves, but apparently have been caught up doing something or other. And they have never minded pressing me into service. Congratulations, by the way. To you and Ashwin." Offered after she has stepped inside and turned to close the door behind her. Easier to juggle what she has to close a door after all.

"An inch beyond their nose," Roa agrees. "I don't think he read the hides. Would you like to set that down somewhere? Do you want anything to drink?" She moves towards the seat area, though she has to do it backwards so that Jay can keep on staring.

Miniyal's head shakes as she holds up the package. "Corin paints. I am not sure if you knew that? Anyway, she painted this. I don't know what it is. So, umm, if it's horrid or anything I had nothing to do with it." It is always best to point those things out in advance. "I can just set it, umm. Wherever you want it."

Roa cants her haad to the side. "I didn't know that she painted. I...hrm..." She glances down at the baby keeping her arms full and then at the package that needs opening. "I don't suppose you want to...?" She looks from the baby over to Miniyal, brows arched high in question.

For a brief second there is nearly a smile on Miniyal's face. But it's gone so quickly it was quite possibly not there. She moves over to the couch to set the painting down. It's only about a foot across and the same height. "She usually only points it out to men. As a way to get them to allow her to paint them. Quite often with no shirt on." Eyes rolling she unties the twine that holds the wrapping in place. "Still. Even at her age. It's so wrong." She pauses in the unwrapping to blink and look up and over at the new mother. "How are you doing?" As if she has just recalled one should ask something like that.

"I see where you get your resourcefulnes from," Roa says with a small half-smile, "if not the inclination to paint men shirtless. If that's a portrait of Ashwin, I'm not sure if I'm going to laugh or be extremely curious as to how Corin managed it." Jashin may only see fuzzy shapes, but those shapes are doing something and making noises that he's never encountered before. His little mouth is open, jaw slack in awe of all that crinkling and crackling as the twine comes off. "I'm all right, thanks. Sort of dazed, maybe. How're you?"

"I do not think she would find it proper to send such a thing as congratulations on the birth of a son." And Corin is all about proper. Which is why Miniyal is, of course. Proper. Dignified. All that. "Well, it will wear off I imagine. Bit by bit. The dazed part. Or so they say. I am- I don't know." Shrugging she finishes unwrapping and turns the painting so it might be seen by the new mom first. Rather than a portrait it is a landscape showing the waterfall and lake outside the Weyr.

The weyrwoman takes a moment to study that painting and then she laughs and then winces. Ow. "Please give your parents my thanks. It's a beautiful painting. One of my favorite places around the weyr." She takes a few steps closer, easing herself into a sit so that Jay can stare his fill at the colors and shapes on display in Corin's work. "What don't you know?" Roa asks, looking up and over at Miniyal.

The hide that wrapped the painting is carefully folded up and the twine then folded up and tied loosely around it to create a small bundle. "How I am. I do not know. But anyway, it's not important. You have managed to find a convenient excuse to not attend the turn's end festivities I see." Miniyal stuffs the hand not holding the hide into her pocket. "Oh. I will. I mean, be sure to pass your thanks along. They will be pleased you like it."

Leaning back carefully against the arm of the couch, Roa smiles faintly. "That's a step up, at least," she offers quietly. One hand splays carefully against her son's side and smoothes a bit of hair back, though that hair's far to short and fine to need any smoothing. "He might as well make himself useful," she agrees, "I suppose it's on your shoulders to make sure everyone has a good time."

"Oh, no. I'm sure Sinopa will do a fine job doing that. I'm not going to attend." Miniyal shakes her head at the thought. "Besides, I'm not even sure I'd be allowed. Anyway, that's her sort of thing. Being social and all. It's not like anyone will know anyway. Everyone will be wearing masks." Blinking once she peers at the quiet baby. "They say the less trouble they are when young the more they will be the older they get. There's some sort of inverse behavior theory or something."

"Do they?" Roa asks, glancing down at the infant who stretches one hand open and closes it tight again. "Makes me wonder if you were very good as a baby or very difficult. I suppose he's storing at all so he can point out what I did wrong, later." She lifts her head, canting it to the side. "I would have thought you'd be interested in attending a masked ball."

Her head shakes as Miniyal shrugs her shoulders. "Well, it is just a theory. And, I do not know. I believe my parents think I have always been difficult. But, any addition to their marriage would have been difficult so I am not sure I believe them. I never meant to cause trouble." Yea, those words. Always a comfort. "I do not see why it would hold my interest any more than any other sort of gathering. There is no one- there is no reason to go. I have always preferred to not attend functions."

"Because the masks give you a sort of freedom, and everyone's a bit more willing to be themselves, with masks on. You won't be treated with any more or less courtesy than anybody else, and people of all ranks and stations are presumed to be equal if only for the night. An interesting study, if nothing else." Roa glances down as Jashin yawns, his staring at the picture and Miniyal taking on a decidedly heavy-lidded aspect. "Your father seemed to be very proud of you, the last time we spoke," she notes softly.

"Navan doesn't ever really know what he thinks of me. A lot of it depends on what Corin is saying at the time." Miniyal glances again at what appears to be a sleepy looking baby. "I should go. I imagine you don't get much rest except when he is resting. I don't want to interfere." Or stick around and say entirely the wrong thing. Which has to be coming up. "I used to be good. At being in a crowd alone. I'm just- I'm not sure how to do it anymore. I wasn't supposed to have to. Not so soon."

"I'm sorry about that," is Roa's feeble offering. She scoots forward, standing with another wince as heavy eyes become closed eyes and Jashin's 'off switch' somehow gets flicked. "Thank you for stopping in and for the painting. You should come back again sometime soon. I mean, if you want."

Pulling her free hand from her pocket Miniyal nods her head. "I'll. . .Yea. I might come by. Have a good day, ma'am." With nothing else to say she crosses the room to the door and leaves. Maybe she just doesn't think arguing in front of a baby is proper. Whatever the case, there's nothing offered as she opens the door and disappears.

After her guest slips out, the weyrwoman heads over the the bassinet near the bed. The baby is set down in the former, and Roa eases back down into the latter. "Well," she murmurs to Jay's unconscious little form, "if you notice anything I've been missing with her all this time, could you point it out?" But Jay has nothing to offer other than small, shallow breaths and the occasional twitch of his fingers.

In which another attempt is made by someone to 'manage' our heroine.

2007-06-26T06:13:20Z

Who: Miniyal and Issa
Where: Weyrling training cavern
When: After dinner on day 10, month 13, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: Having taken the advice solicited from the weyrleader Issa presents Miniyal with a new schedule. Ella? I'm afraid you just lost the Queen of Breaking Miniyal title. It's passed on to another greenrider. ;)

6/25/2007

At High Reaches Weyr, it is after dinner on day 10, month 13, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.

The older the dragons get the more their riders tend to stay away when they get some small free time. Not needing to worry so much they roam or just avoid being where they live. Following dinner, for the most part, the training cavern runs pretty empty. There's always someone around. One or two people with some assignment to finish or straps to work on or just no place else to go. Tonight is no exception and even though the winter weather has encouraged people to gather indoors the weyrlings have found a different indoors to go to. Likely the living cavern since they've already been there for dinner. And while she's been there as well it's not where Miniyal will be found at the moment. Instead she's here where it is quieter. Even were there a group of people it's hard to miss her since she's still got the constantly growing gold attached to her hip. Or, well, curled up beside her watching what she does. What she does is read a book. Horribly exciting. It must be since she seems engrossed in it, leaving it to the dragon to alert her to the arrival of anyone who might appear.

Miniyal has plenty of time, these days, to prepare herself for the approach of the weyrling's wingsecond. Issa waddles quite noticeably now with the weight of that baby and she can be seen from dragonlengths away with the size of the belly holding it. The emptiness of the cavern just makes it that much easier. But even with that plodding pace, Issa persists across the wide floor, zeroing in on the newest Reachian goldrider. She does the weyrling a favor of announcing her presence once she's in hearing range, though, greeting her with a simple, "Evening, Miniyal." Aside from that belly, she carries a scrap of hide in her hand, another sort of list scrawled over the cracked and much-used surface. For Peloth, she gives only a slight nod before returning her attention to her rider. "What're you reading?" she asks, small talk quota fulfilled as she pauses a comfortable distance away.

With warning given she has time to close her book. Although she waits until the wingsecond has spoken before doing so. Then she makes her way to her feet and if her belly is not as large as the pregnant woman's it still requires a moment for her to get up. Still, a lifetime of being used to such a thing makes it not so difficult. Holding the book in her off hand allows her to salute. "Ma'am. Evening. Poetry, ma'am." The book gets a little waggle in her hand at those last words. In case the other woman has trouble determining what that last word before that last ma'am refers to. And then since she was the one approached she waits in silence with her free hand sliding into a pocket.

Issa releases that salute with a swift toss of her own hand then nods for the answer, her lips lifting into a pleasant little curve. "Ah. Good way to relax," she comments, then she waits in silence for a moment, only a moment before getting to the business that caused her to cross all that way to see Miniyal in the first place. "You have a new schedule," she informs her, her words shifting over into the quietly firm tone she reserves for official orders. She moves only to extend her arm and the hide filled with D'ven's handwriting along with it, making Miniyal step forward to take it. Schedule updates are usually posted on the wall near the office, for all to see, so this personal summons is a tad odd. Making it more so is the fact that it's not really what one would expect out of a new schedule; in fact, it looks quite similar to the schedule from a few months ago. While there are still times set aside for the drills and exercises that all weyrlings are experiencing at the moment, her free time slots are filled with extra duties labeled simply 'classroom time' or 'teaching.' Then, at the bottom, there's an addendum, that Miniyal is to accompany the woman that stands before her whenever the wingsecond wishes, helping her with whatever she needs help with. An assistant of sorts. Issa merely stands there, face impassive, while the weyrling reads over it.

Step forward she does with her hand coming from her pocket so she can take the list and look it over. Miniyal's expression remains undisturbed as she looks it over. Peloth remains still beside her rider as she observes what goes on. Neither of them give anything away as far as any internal impressions of this new schedule. After it's been read over twice carefully the weyrling's eyes move away from it to Issa. "Starting tomorrow, ma'am?" That's it. Other than to hold the schedule back out as she asks, "Did you need this back?"

Issa's eyes flick down to the held out hide, but she shakes her head when they rise to the weyrling again. "Keep it," she answers, her voice still calm as she adds, "It'll help you know when and where you need to be." She pauses, but the briefing continues on after that, as Issa tries to cross her arms, but finds her belly to be too awkward for the position and instead resigns herself to sticking them into the pockets of her coat. "And yes, you'll start tomorrow. And continue indefinitely. The classroom time is for you to make up every one you missed, or were late to. There are a few others that need remedial help that will be there with you for most of them. You'll be helping teach those few, too, since you seem to feel you have the subjects mastered." All of this is delivered simply, without any snarkiness that might otherwise be expected. "Under whatever instructor's supervision, of course. So be prepared for that. If you have any questions about any of it, I'll be around," she says then, with a bit of amusement touching the corners of her lips very briefly before her expression sinks back down into a pleasant calm once again.

The list being hers to keep it is folded and tucked into her book. Where it will remain and never be looked at again, sure, but that's information for her to know. If Issa believes she needs it then Miniyal will not correct her of that notion. "Very well, ma'am." With a hand free once more it goes into her pocket and the other holds the book down flat against her thigh. "I do not see the need for questions, ma'am. It all appeared quite self-explanatory on the schedule." That said she goes for silence once more as she simply waits for something else to be said or to be dismissed from the lovely 'conversation.' Such as it is and all.

"Good. I'm glad," Issa responds succinctly, giving a short nod to match the words. "I'm mostly going to need you to help me oil Oshisyth. Bathe her. As well as anything else I can think up at the time." She seems unaware if anything she says is particularly unbearable for the weyrling, continuing with that same quiet inflection. The wingsecond shifts the whole of her laden weight onto her other foot and regards Miniyal's face evenly for a beat. "You think you're up to it?" she asks, arching a mildly curious brow and using a nod to indicate the schedule that's been hidden away in the book of poetry since her hands are caught in her pockets at the moment.

Miniyal's head shakes once as she regards the greenrider. "I've had plenty of experience with assisting, ma'am." Whatever it might have costed her to say that so calmly and apparently unbothered by the words there's no hint of it in her expression. "And schedules." Her eyes stray away from the conversation to where her dragon lies watching her. A little glance and then she looks back once more to Issa's general vicinity. She must be horribly comfortable standing as she is since there's not an inch of movement from her. No twitching fingers or shuffling feet but just a statue-like stillness that she seems to think works with her sparing words.

Issa shifts enough for the both of them, her stance returning to a lean on that first foot again. Her eyes, though, stay steadily forward and focused. "Can't escape it, I guess," she says, the comment drained dry of any prodding malice or teasing amusement, instead weighted by an ounce of regret in amidst the overall quiet of her voice. "You realize the reason for the change, don't you?"

"I would never presume, ma'am, to attribute motives to the actions of others. I am sure if I do not get it quickly enough I will be enlightened as to exactly what it is I am supposed to be learning from all of this." Miniyal lifts her eyes away from whatever they studied off in the distance to focus with certainty on the other woman. "I am not sure if this is the sort of thing I should be learning on my own or if you wish to enlighten me know so I might bask in the brilliance of this plan." And, while the words must have come out from some place alive with sarcasm there is none of it in her tone.

Issa blinks passively at the dry tone paired with those sarcastic words and, after a beat, lets out a slow breath of laughter. "The brilliance of it is," she replies easily, seemingly unaffected by the weyrling's manner, "is that you are going to finish every single aspect of this program, just like everyone else, no matter how unimportant you may think them to be. Even if it bores you to tears. Even if it takes us turns and you're still in the barracks when Peloth's on the sands. Even if I have to attach myself to you and push you the entire way." Her pocket-bound arms start to give a shrug but give up the endeavor halfway, making it seem stunted. "Because as a weyrwoman there'll be many things that you must do, whether you agree with them or not. That seems to be an area you have difficulty with, Miniyal."

For all her words Issa gets a tilt of the head in reply. Barely an inch to the left and then back it goes. Miniyal blinks once before nodding. "Of course, ma'am. As you say. Was there anything else I needed to know right now, ma'am? Since I will not have time tomorrow or the indefinite future I should return this book now before I get started on not sleeping, ma'am."

Issa searches the weyrling's face for a moment, as if what she's to say next would be written there. In the end, she finds it a few seconds later, there or elsewhere. "I want you to try and be less indifferent about your future, Miniyal."

Miniyal blinks again although much more slowly than a normal blink might be. So, it might be something else entirely. "I'm sure you're not alone in that, ma'am." She's not forward enough to try to end the conversation with a preemptive salute or anything, but she is, likely, running out of short answers that have not devolved into a simple nod of her head.

"I know I'm not," she responds quickly, shifting her weight once again. And just as Miniyal doesn't end the conversation, Issa doesn't seem to be giving up on it either. "I don't want you to float through this. No one does." She breaks then, but only for a moment, a handful of seconds to gather a deeper breath. "And I don't think Gans would have either," she adds even more quietly, her eyes never leaving Miniyal's face.

Stuck then, in a conversation she doesn't want to have. If it goes on forever she will have to move. She won't be able to stand so still forever. But for now Miniyal doesn't move. "He's dead." This seems to sum up that and so Miniyal lets it go with those two words. "I'm aware everyone wants me to do something, ma'am."

Issa nods her head, slowly, her eyes wandering past Miniyal first to Peloth and then to a greenriding pair wandering across toward the barracks behind her. "Everyone wants you to do something," she repeats with an affirming tone, adding then, so quietly, "Get used to it, weyrwoman." She pauses only to exhales a breath and draws her eyes back to Miniyal, where they stay steadily from then on. "Then forget what I want you to do, Miniyal," she continues, her voice gaining volume but never rising from that same smooth firmness. "You know what I /don't/ want? I don't want you to become a weyrwoman who has no influence in the way the Weyr is run. I don't want you to be the one everyone tolerates because she can keep a neat ledger, because she's attached to a good breeder. Because believe it or not, doing what you're doing now will lead you right there. A lot of people would be thrilled if that's the way you turned out. But not me. In fact I'm going to try everything, have been trying everything, to make sure you don't. But if that's what you /want/ to do, then fine." She ends that with a tiny shake of her head, an almost unconscious movement in amonst her cool calm. "Go ahead and become the unassuming weyrwoman, the one who drifts about, occasionally saying outrageous things that no one really listens to anyway. No one will say I didn't do my job if that's the way you turn out. But I can't just sit back and watch it."

"Oh, ma'am. You needn't worry about that. I'm doing my best to not say anything." Miniyal nods her head at that and then lifts her hand to waggle the book. "Just reading poetry, ma'am. No harm in that. Just something simple about trees and clouds and rocks and the like." Settling the book back against her thigh she shakes her head now, just once. "I'm not looking for influence, ma'am. The Weyr is welcome to do what it will with me. Or not. Whatever. So, do feel free to stop trying. I really wish everyone would. Better luck with the next one, ma'am. Maybe she'll be what you want and you'll get out of it whatever it is I am not willing to provide." She doesn't ask it again, she just looks at Issa as if waiting for dismissal.

"Right," Issa answers, eyebrows lifting as her eyes drop to the floor at Miniyal's feet. "Well, if you're looking for tree poems," she continues a short moment later, turning an indifferent gaze back up to the weyrwoman, "I suggest Thenalis. Have a good night. I'll see you in the morning." It's as crisp a salute as Issa is known to give that forms that dismissal she wants so badly, and she makes the weyrling hold it for a good several seconds before releasing. She doesn't yield ground though, staying rooted firmly where she is and waiting for Miniyal to take her leave. Perhaps she just doesn't want to have to waddle away from a conversation like that.

Dismissed is all she wanted and once she gets it, well, it is a thing of beauty. Once she's been dismissed and is finished saluting and, likely, sending Peloth on her way, Miniyal turns to leave. "Oh. I won't have time for reading, ma'am. You've seen to that." Some things, like a genetic imperative to have the last word, can break through any sort of bleakness that has attached itself to someone's life. And so Issa gets left as she wants, the weyrling pair splitting up to their own destinations for now.

OOC: Meme-age

2007-06-20T14:47:50Z

Heee. I couldn't resist. It was scarily accurate I thought. Scaaarily.

It's the Greek Mythology Personality Test!

Your Score: Prometheus

0% Extroversion, 100% Intuition, 16% Emotiveness, 23% Perceptiveness

You are most like Prometheus, and you probably knew that before you even took this test. You probably aren't deliberately altruistic, but you still tend to do things that benefit everyone, even at great expense to your health and personal relationships. You aren't ruled by your emotions, but you still have a strong sense of justice. You make good descisions, but they can sometimes backfire (and this isn't due to a flaw in your reasoning, but due to faulty premises instead).

You are very reasonable, you understand systems, you can quickly pinpoint flaws and you know how to correct them. You pride understanding and knowledge above everything else, and your greatest fear is to appear to be incompetent. You tend to be contemptuous of authority, but you don't accept leadership roles yourself until everyone else has demonstrated their own incompetence.

You've built a very specific skill set. You know exactly where your strengths and weaknesses are, and you pride yourself on this kind of self-knowledge. You distrust tradition, which you see as arbitrary, and you rely instead on your own judgements. You also pride yourself on your pragmatism. You're also a very private person.

Most of all, people think you're arrogant, but screw them! They're the ones who benefit from your ideas and discoveries, and if they took the time to understand why it is that you say and think the things you do, they'd realize that you only appear arrogant because you are exactingly precise when it comes to your area of specification, and most of all because, when you don't know something, you don't have an opinion about it (unlike most of the loudmouths that you have to deal with on a day-to-day basis).

Relationships are your kryptonite. It isn't that you don't want them -- in fact, you would very much like a very close relationship with someone who understands you. They're just the one thing in the world that you're naturally bad at.

Famous people like you: Niels Bohr, J. Robert Oppenheimer, Werner Heisenberg, Issac Newton, John Maynard Keynes, Erwin Schrodinger

Stay Clear of: Apollo, Icarus, Hermes, Aphrodite

Seek out: Atlas, The Oracle, Daedalus

Link: The Greek Mythology Personality Test written by Aleph_Nine on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

Self-destructive behavior.

2007-06-17T06:12:11Z

Who: Miniyal and Neiran
Where: Living cavern
When: Post dinnertime on day 20, month 12, turn 3 of the 7th pass.
What: Miniyal is seated alone in the living cavern when a healer invades her space. Considering the healer in question it is an odd conversation.
Note: I just want to say here for all to see that I <3 Nibbler. This was such an awesome scene.

6/16/2007

At High Reaches Weyr, it is 19:25 on day 20, month 12, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.

It's after dinner and while some members of the weyr remain in the living cavern for the most part it is quiet. People are settled into little groups with most of them being by the fire. Winter is here and people are smart enough to find the warmth where they can. However, not everyone is so interested in it. Or not interested in the crowds it brings. Miniyal has found a less attractive spot nearish the tunnel leading to the bowl. Not close enough to be truly cold it does get a chill ever now and again. A cup sits on the table along with a book that she is writing it. Every once in awhile someone will look her way, but she sits alone.

It's a tired-looking Journeyman that emerges from the tunnel that leads to the infirmary. He's wearing his cassock, but unusually, the entirety of its long front is unbuttoned. It hangs on him like a thin coat, a plain blue tunic beneath, along with typical black pants. He seems disoriented for a moment, loitering near the infirmary's exit, eyeing the dinner crowd with displeased surprise. He raises his hand to his face and briefly rubs his eyes with his fingertips. Once he's finished grinding his eyeballs into their sockets, he plots a trajectory that takes him around the bulk of the crowd to where he can fetch a mug, and disappear towards a hearth to gain some hot water. Of course, he supplies his own herbs - he retrieves a small satchel of them from his beltpouch, drops them into the mug, and pours hot water atop. Still seeming to be running on some sort of automatic compulsion, he weaves around chairs and bodies and goes to his alone spot, only to find it preoccupied. Miniyal is given the once-over, and the Journeyman with dark circles under his eyes gives the goldrider a slow nod. "Do...would my company be unappreciated?" He gestures at an empty chair with his mug.

If she had known she was in someone's spot likely she would not have sat there. At the words Miniyal lifts her head from what she writes and blinks. "Oh. Neiran. Please, sit down. I am not using the whole table." One hand gestures to the table that is empty other than for her. Reaching for her mug she peers into it and then pushes it away. "You look tired. Has it been a rough day?" Someone else might have gotten asked if it was a long day, but perhaps she doesn't feel like risking him pointing out that all days are the same length.

"Thank you." Neiran puts his mug down and slides into the seat he's picked to occupy, his back to the rest of the room. Maybe if he can't see them, he can ignore them. Miniyal is given a flat look as she tactfully points out his appearance, but there's no venom in the flat stare whatsoever. "It has been...unexpectedly difficult." The long pause before the words, and the vagueness of them suggests some degree of unusualness, but his expression is resigned. An expected, surprising difficulty, it would seem. Thin, pale fingers curl around the mug's warmth, draw it close. Shoulders hunkered a little, the man regards his brewing tea with a wan expression, and asks it blandly, "how was your day, Weyrling?"

"Ah. Well, I hope there are no more unexpected difficulties to your day then." Miniyal picks through her words. She pays careful attention to them as she takes up her mug this time to have a drink. Setting it back down she takes up her pen again and dips it into the ink well by her book. As he settles down into his seat and arranges himself to his liking she writes. Only when he asks his question does she lift her head so she might look at him. "The same as every other day has been." Once she's answered she looks back at her writing again, rereading what is on the page. She adds a line and then sets down the pen to fold her hands on the table by the book.

"There shall not be. Not today." Neiran sounds sure of that, at least. One of his thin pinkies traces a repetitive line along the half-circle of his mug's brim. The Journeyman purses his lips while he does that, his eyelids falling to half-mast as if he could fall asleep while sitting before the gold weyrling. He seems to remember himself after a fluttered series of blinks, lifting his head to focus on the woman's face. "Do you find...yourself much changed, with the addition of Peloth to your daily experience?" He's grasping at small talk, with debatable effectiveness.

Luckily for him he's grasping at something his tablemate has never quite managed herself. It means any mistakes will either be entirely missed or ignored. Miniyal shakes her head slowly and then stops, nodding. "Yes. It is not the same. Sometimes it is very disconcerting. Sometimes, already, I don't even notice until she makes me." Taking up her pen she doesn't write with it, but studies it instead. When it no longer holds her interest she sets it down and folds her hands again, twisting the ring worn on her left hand around and around. "Sometimes I think she's all that keeps me together these days." Blink. Looking up she shakes her head. "Sorry. Nevermind."

Neiran watches Miniyal's calm fidgetings, his dark eyes tracking her hands. His eyes remain at half mast, his whole expression and posture vastly sedated, the sharp edges of his actions and glances utterly dulled. It's like his own soporific voice has lulled him to this state, but some stress earlier or even a herbal component is more believable than the healer singing lullabies to himself, or engaging in a lengthy monologue, surely. He flicks his eyes to her face due to those last comments, but inevitably they sink to his tea again. He wets throat with a slow sip before responding. "I have nothing to say that could potentially comfort you, other than an adage which the Hall teaches its apprentices: 'time heals all wounds.'" That he doesn't watch her face for her reaction shows he doesn't put much stock in it, or the extent of his tiredness.

"Yea, I've been told that. But when you ask how long no one has an answer, you know?" Miniyal snorts softly as she continues to twist her ring. It's this that earns her attention and not the person she speaks to. As if it doesn't matter whom it is she speaks with. Just going through the motions. "I mean, why do people say stupid things and expect it to. . .I don't know. I don't understand why people don't just tell the truth. Like, 'Sure, it feels like your heart has been ripped from your chest and danced on and left out to be picked over by animals but it doesn't matter. Life is going to go on no matter what. Get over it because no one cares.' But, no. No one just says that. And that's the truth."

"The answer is approximately two turns. One to work through the recognized phases of grief, and another to weather the first year of recovery. However, the new equilibrium - the new normal - can never be as it was before." The healer looks up from his mug, eyelids lifting from their half-lidded state. "Despite how stubbornly men and women may wish to cling to the negative emotions that they feel justified in experiencing, it is more exhausting than letting go, ultimately. I believe that is the truth." The Journeyman straightens a little, visibly trying to rouse himself so that his sentiments aren't put forth with a sloppy delivery. Neiran leans back, eliminating the stoop of his shoulders. He slides his hands away from his mug, and sees to buttoning up the front of his cassock, uniting the two halves of dark fabric in a long ascent towards the raised collar. "I would not say no one cares. I would say they care about your return to normalcy, though perhaps not about what you are experiencing now."

Miniyal's eyes remain down on her hands so his delivery no matter the style is not noticed. Instead she just watches the ring go around and around on her finger. "Two turns?" Well, that is clearly too long, but she doesn't seem to want to argue it. "Have you ever mourned anyone? I don't think it is that simple. I mean, it's not- It's not like when someone knows they're being self-destructive they can just stop it. I mean. . .it's just not that simple. Wait. People study that sort of thing? I mean, that would be a depressing sort of study. Not that it matters I guess. I'm sorry, Neiran. I'm having a hard time communicating these days." She pauses and looks over a minute with a shrug. "More than normal I suppose. I'm horrible company. if you would rather I left you alone you only have to say. I will leave you be."

"And here I had feared that it was I who was the lacking conversationalist in this exchange." He doesn't need to explain why; Miniyal's already pointed out how tired he looks. The Journeyman waves a thin hand in a vague, winding motion, a little less graceful and more wavering than usual, but it's clearly meant as a dismissive gesture nonetheless. "I have mourned," he replies, "though admittedly my connection to the deceased was not as...strong as yours." Neiran lifts the tea to his lips, and only now realizes the herb satchel is still bobbing in it. He removes it, and simply sets it on the wood of the table without so much as glancing around for a saucer. "Yes, it is studied. Preliminary examinations of grief responses is a required part of healer apprenticeship. Those going into mindhealing study it more in-depth." He looks up from addressing the table, from watching the tea color the grains of the wood. It's already darkened by the spillage of generations of dragonriders past; a little tea won't hurt it. "If one has the ability to recognize they are being self-destructive, they can choose to stop it," he states, disagreeing with the woman in his quiet, patient way. "All it requires is sufficient will."

"I have never had any complaints about your conversational skills." Miniyal reaches for her mug without looking and whatever is in it she drinks. Cold klah likely considering how long she has been sitting here. Once it is empty she sets it down and shakes her head. Now she can resume playing with her ring. Twist, twist, twist. "When someone you are close to dies- I mean, it's different. It's just sort of like-" Stopping again she sighs. "I don't even know how to explain it. I suppose I probably could do so without my words being colored excessively by my current emotional state." A visible lack of emotional state is clearly an emotional state. Just a different sort. Blinking down at her hands she stops toying with her ring and laces her fingers together. "What if that's all you have? Self-destructive behavior? I mean. . .nothing. Nevermind."

"You do realize that when one quickly negates a statement just made, that it only draws the listener's attention more sharply to what was said, I assume." Look what Caucus has taught the boy. After a vague attempt at lifting his brow, Neiran exhales, and belatedly fastens the final three buttons of his cassock. "Much commonly accepted human behavior is self-destructive. Certain eating habits, alcohol, relationships, activities...the more blatantly self-destructive acts are no different. It is never all you have. It merely takes a shift in perception to recognize what else it is that remains. Though I would not know from any /firsthand/ experience." There's a slight emphasis on that word, intended or not. The Journeyman's anything but self-destructive, a distinction he usually never fails to highlight.

Head tilting over to one side her attention is drawn up from her hands to look at the healer. "Really? Commonly accepted theories hold that a person who remains apart by choice from those surrounding him is doing himself harm." Miniyal takes no joy in saying this like, perhaps, she might have once upon a time. It is just something she points out. "You remain aloof from what goes on around you. You never seem to truly experience life with someone else. That would be deemed self-destructive by some. I've read texts about it I could quote if you preferred, but I do not have them at hand so could not guarantee accuracy." Everything said is enough and she lets out a sigh, dismissing her argument with a wave of her hand. "Sometimes it's only pain that makes someone feel like they’re still alive."

"I have read those theories," Neiran replies. It's a quick response on the cusp of being a retort; a little too quickly said to be nonchalant, but a little too devoid of ire to be a genuine rebuff. "Introversion and pathological seclusion and anthropophobia are not the same thing, and the fact that I am engaging in conversation with you now proves I do not suffer from either of the latter." He came armed with that reply; doubtless it's not the first time his habits have been pointed out to him. He doesn't seem as ready to let drop the argument as Miniyal is, his eyes regaining some of their usual focus as he wakes up, stimulated by the conversation, whatever's in his tea, or both. "I disagree with the statement you have just made. Pain is only a physical response; to rely on it for any comprehension of sentient living is incorrect."

"I feel sort of bad I couldn't come up with something you haven't heard before. I have made no real study of the topic. I have only read what we have here in records." Miniyal shrugs at this and closes her book. Likely, she was just waiting to be sure the ink was dry before doing such a thing. Since she is done writing the ink is recapped as well and her things stacked up neatly together before her. "Pain is not just physical, Neiran. I could cut myself and it would hurt, but it would not be painful. Not the sort of pain that, were I one who slept, would have me not wanting to wake up in the morning. Pain is loss. The sort of loss that you try not to let consume you and aren't really sure you can stop it. Or even if you want to some days. But at least I know if the emptiness inside me is due to loss and causes pain that I'm not dead inside."

There are many things that Neiran could say in reply. It's like a chess board with a near-infinite possibility of moves lays before him. He has to weigh each one properly, dart down every mental avenue before choosing a path to actually walk. As such, he dawdles in silence. He has the courtesy to occupy his mouth with drinking tea so he's not simply staring at Miniyal in silence without explanation. At last, he murmurs over the brim of his cooling beverage, "only necrotizing fasciitis truly makes you dead inside. You will live, and enjoy yourself again when you allow yourself to." That must be rich, coming from a guy who never smiles. "Peloth will help, undoubtedly."

Rather than worry at her ring Miniyal lifts a hand to touch the necklace worn. Finding the stone she rubs her thumb over it before letting her hand fall once more. "Yes. Supposedly she will." Clearly she disbelieves this although tone barely alters from what it was. "You're too literal minded to understand. You try so hard to see things that way. Or appear to. Sometimes. . .sometimes it's not so simple. No, there is nothing physically wrong with me. . .well, there might be, but nothing that causes me pain. But, that doesn't change the fact that I stare at each new day and can't feel anything but indifference about how it goes. Emotionally I am dead inside. I thought in the past I had felt something similar, but I was wrong. There is nothing like this. I let him die." Closing her eyes she pulls her hands into her lap where they fold together. "It's my fault I feel this way. If I could stop it without hurting her I would."

The Journeyman's lips press together. "I do not see how you have anything to do with a heart condition, Miniyal. Blaming yourself is not uncommon in situations like these, but I would advise you to seek whatever help necessary to overcome that inclination."

"There is no help for it." Miniyal shakes her head as she lifts her hands from her lap and pulls her things closer, protectively. Or just preparing to flee the conversation. "No one can tell me a lie and make it better. No one can make me believe what isn't the truth. And the truth is I let him down and he died. Because I wasn't doing what I should have. I just have to live with it for the rest of my life. Knowing he's dead because of me."

"If that's the belief you choose to live with for the rest of your life, then I am afraid you will be clinging to a fallacy," Neiran says. Gently, but firmly: his tone for the terminally ill. He rises from the table, picks his drying satchel of herbs up from the tabletop, and drops it into the mug. The lack of a splash shows that the mug's empty, tea finished some time ago. The healer reflexively smoothes the front of his cassock, his narrow chest shrinking as he exhales slowly. "I beg your pardon, but I have an assignment due tomorrow." A perceptive person could see that, however it might sound, this isn't an excuse. He pauses, hesitating in his resolved departure for a moment. "Today is...the nineteenth, correct?" The stupidity of that question smarts the Journeyman, makes his brows furrow a little.

Since he is rising, she remains seated. One person is allowed to leave the table and he is given the honor since he took it first. "No. The twentieth." Miniyal glances up for just a moment at the healer standing at her table. "Two months." Since he died. That doesn't need saying. Not from her. She just looks back down at her hands atop her book.

The Journeyman seems surprised, then displeased by the news of the date. He flicks his gaze towards the tunnel through which he came, then looks at the gold Weyrling again. "Twenty-four months maximum before a new equilibrium. Good evening." Looking only a little better than he did when he came in, the Journeyman gives her the respect of a bow, then stalks off. Unsurprisingly, it's back to the infirmary tunnel he goes, at a quick pace - for whatever reason, the healer's missed a day.

Alone in the dark

2007-06-17T03:36:19Z

It's not that she doesn't know she is broken. It's just that she has no clear idea of how to fix herself.

Asking for help would be silly. So, instead Miniyal just flounders along. At the end of the 12th month she finds herself out alone in the middle of the night. Reflection on where she is and how she's going to cope occurs while the brat sleeps.

The idea for this popped into my head as I walked the dog. For the 100th time today. I think I composed most of it while she rolled in the grass.

Sometimes she could be out-waited. Sometimes if I did it right she wouldn’t still be awake. I just had to be patient and lie very still. Eventually the sounds in the barracks settled down into sleep. Including her. Once I was sure she was asleep I carefully crawled out of my cot. It was winter and it would be cold outside, but leaving my coat out was a dead giveaway. I considered not getting it, but in the end I got it out from where it sat atop my other clothes and slipped it out on the way outside.

The middle of the night in winter was the perfect time to be outside. No snow yet, but the wind blew day and night. I buttoned up my coat and shoved my hands into the pockets. I could feel the gloves in there, but wanted my hands close. Sometimes I couldn’t think at all when she was awake. She always had an opinion, something to contribute, some reason what I said wasn’t true. And sometimes I just didn’t need that. So, I went out into the bowl and found a spot out of the way. Not so much sheltered from the wind as sheltered from other eyes.

Leaning against cold stone I looked up overhead. No clouds were overhead so the stars shined visibly. I picked out constellations at random, without even trying. Letting my brain wander from one to the other I sighed and watched my breath in the cold air. I don’t know what you wanted me to do, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t this. I don’t know why I did this. Crept out on her to speak to the stars, pretending somewhere he heard me. But no one else understands.

You always thought I could do something. Always had faith in me and you had so much I was able to live off yours. And now I have someone else who has faith in me and it’s so hard not to lean on her. Did you know? When you maneuvered me where you wanted me? How hard it would be?

He would understand what I meant. That there was no rancor, no disappointment. Why should I think he wouldn’t have done with me what he did with everyone else? I don’t think it lessened what we had. I know he loved me as surely as I know I love him. But that is what he did. He was not the sort to not arrange things as he pleased. Or try to.

My field of vision was interrupted by a dragon coming in to land. I was not worried about being seen. Or of being recognized more accurately. More suspicious looking to move suddenly so I stayed where I was and picked out a new constellation. I’m messing it all up. And you would smile or laugh when I said that and convince me I was not. Only, I really am this time. I don’t know how to fix it and she would offer me all sorts of suggestions. But you can’t and I don’t want suggestions right now. I just want. . .I don’t know.

I never knew what I wanted from him when he was alive. Why should that have changed now that he was just someone I could talk to when no one else would do? I needed him. I overheard someone the other day saying that he was with Hirth now where he belonged. Why? Why is that where he belonged? Hirth was dead. He had no need of his rider. I still did. I needed him. But it didn’t matter. What I needed didn’t matter or wasn’t supposed to. I was supposed to be thinking of what other people needed. That was a good leader. That was what I was not. What I couldn’t be. I couldn’t even guide myself and I would be expected to be. . .nothing. Not the way I was going.

I’m letting you down. I know it. I know you would say it were not so. But that doesn’t make it the truth. I’m letting everyone down. Except all the ones waiting for me to fall. And there are so many of them.

Just a couple of days ago one of the other weyrlings had snidely pointed out that if I kept fucking up I’d barely have time to graduate before I was transferred out and someone better brought in. He might have had a point. But I doubt it. That would require them to trust me to be quiet. I knew too much to be sent off somewhere else. They wouldn’t trust me. They wouldn’t know I would be quiet. I’m not her. I can keep my mouth shut. Still, maybe they would. Maybe they would find some good excuse. Beyond the ones I gave them I suppose.

I don’t know how to fix it. I wish you were here to help me. You always showed me what I couldn’t see. I relied on you to do that. I know I did. I know that some of what they said was true. I did look to you, but so what? You were older, smarter. . .you knew things. Not the same things I knew. I know, Gans. I know that if you were alive I would happily be looking to you still. And a part of me hates knowing that. Knowing that I would rather hide behind you.

I hate that what makes me the most upset is I don’t know why. Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you write it down? I can guess. I can suppose. But I don’t /know/ and that will haunt me forever. I could almost hate you for it. If I didn’t love you so much. I’m sorry.

I didn’t want to miss him. I didn’t want to think about him. I didn’t want to start every day feeling empty. I just didn’t know how to fix it. I was broken in a way that made no sense. She said I needed someone to talk to like it was easy. Like. . .like. . .I don’t know. Like anyone wanted to. I’d messed up so bad. There wasn’t even a way to fix it. Not by now. I had ruined it. I’d ruined it all.

It was getting later. I should think about. . .I don’t know. Not sleeping. Never sleeping. I could drink, but I had promised her I wouldn’t. Not for a little while. At least I could try not to break a promise to her. Even if nothing else ever worked out right I would do right by her. Somehow. I had to try. She deserved better.

Nonsense. There is no one better. Oh. She’d woken up. You worry and I wake up. It upsets my dreams.

Well, that was something new. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. How come you never told me before?

You did not need to know. It was not something that happened often. Now it happens more. I worry about you. Shall I come to you?

It was more trouble. It was bound to be more trouble. I should go back to my cot even if I was not tired. I’m cold.

Then I will come out. I will explain. There will be no trouble. I waited for her. It didn’t take long before she appeared and made her way to where I was. I waited for her to get settled and then sat beside her. Leaning against her we sat still and watched the stars shine until the light grew. Until they disappeared in the sky. Until we weren’t alone anymore as the weyr woke up around us. But people didn’t get close enough to bother us as we watched the sun come up. When it was too light to see anything of interest in the sky I stood up. We had things to do.

I’ll make it right. Somehow. I’m not sure as we crossed the bowl who I was promising. Her or him. It didn’t matter I guess. It’s not like I thought I could do it anyway. No matter what she told me.

There are no safe topics of conversation.

2007-06-13T18:15:44Z

Who: Arekoth, H'kon, Miniyal, and Peloth
Where: The bowl near the lake
When: 09:14 on day 14, month 12, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: Ditching class a weyrling runs into a wingrider. Their dragons wish to talk to each other. So, what can be done?

6/13/2007

At High Reaches Weyr, it is 09:14 on day 14, month 12, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.

But for the shape of him, and the posture he's adopted, there's not much to be seen that identifies H'kon as... H'kon. Riding jacket is done up, with gloved hands shoved into his pockets, and collar turned up to provide extra protection for his neck. His face has been huddled down, so that only his nose (red) and eyes (marked with bags underneath) show. Pulled down over ears and hair is a toque, dark blue and grey, which surely he's knitted himself. Arekoth, despite his usual bravado, is also hunched up a bit to hide from those gusts of wind. He stands more or less on the shore of the lake, though he's certain to have his front paws completely submerged, up to the knee-joints. Inner lids are closed. Beautfiul day to be out by the lake.

It is the time of morning when weyrlings are supposed to be warmly and safely indoors. Classroom lessons. It's the time of day Miniyal tries to get out of where she is supposed to be more than anything. Classroom phobia. When she can't invent an excuse she will sometimes just not show up. And get in trouble for it, sure, but what's a little trouble? There is no sneaking about anywhere with a dragon at your side. Especially not one with a gold hide. Peloth walks beside her rider, pressed up against her side. It is a marvel they're not falling all over each other. They might have been headed somewhere else, but near the lake Peloth spots a friend. So, with some subtle adjustments she sends her rider in that direction. When they get closer the larger of the weyrling pair lets out a croon of greeting. Miniyal offers no greeting at all, not hiding in her coat but wearing one. The black leather looking barely worn and the fur around the hood worn down caught in the wind and near constantly ruffling.

Arekoth is certainly beyond pleased when the croon is heard, and its source recognised. A few steps are taken back from the frigid water, and the brown, unconsciously lifting that left foreleg into the air, provides a deep rumbled greeting in return. << Hah. The day's better already. >> H'kon isn't about to start the conversation going, though no sooner than he's noticed Miniyal, he's straightening up, and making his posture look as though he's not nearly as cold as he feels. The weyrling is watched, but not approached.

One hand emerges from a pocket. Not in there to keep it warm as it's hidden within a glove to match the coat. Miniyal makes an annoyed swipe at her hair and lets out a sigh. Her feet carry her a few paces closer to where H'kon stands and before the hand returns to the pocket she salutes. But says nothing. It is left to Peloth to speak and she is happy to do so. Breaking away from her rider she gives Arekoth a bump of affection with her head against his side. <> The words fill the brown's mind as a statement of fact. He may have said it, but she says it better. Always.

One of H'kon's own gloved hands is brought up to return that salute, a nod accompanying it. The exhaled air condenses before him in a nice little cloud. He doesn't push his chin back down, again, feigning warmth. Visual attention then flips over to Arekoth, who is busily returning that bump. The left leg has touched the wet ground once more. << Too bad you aren't around all the time. >> Less the materialising idea, and more the direct and smooth thought, now.

What her rider lacks in social graces Peloth has. And what she lacks she is learning to fake. One foreleg extends so the gold might examine the temperature of the water. Verdict: cold. But she moves forward some anyway. << If I were around all the time it would not be such a pleasure to see me when I am around. >> Looking over her shoulder at her rider she watches a moment and then surges forth into the water. It may be cold, but that won't stop her. It's water! And on the shore Miniyal looks at H'kon. "Sir. I suppose you heard what happened."

<> Arekoth notes, following after the young queen into the water. Congratulations, Peloth, you've been deemed old enough for some light flirtation. H'kon's jaw sets when the brown hits that water, and the condition certainly doesn't improve with Miniyal's chosen topic. "I did," is confirmed, with another nod, and another cloud of air forming around his mouth and nose.

Well, she would point out she is quite clearly old enough for most things. Peloth just moves out into the water without any indication the temperature of it bothers her. << You may see me whenever you wish. We both live here. >> It is not coy or flirtatious. She is not the type. It might be deemed that way, but she simply states a fact. <> And grants permission. She may buddy up to a brown and let him flirt, but she doesn't forget she is a queen. "Don't worry, sir. I will not discuss it with you." Miniyal says this while looking out in the water. Instead she finds another uncomfortable topic. "Will you be able to stop him, you think? When she rises. Or should I remove her from his presence now to hopefully solve that problem before it must be dealt with. Surely if I keep them separate for a couple of turns he will forget."

One of these days, H'kon will learn to just run in the other direction when he sees Miniyal coming. For now, the brownrider sets to grinding his teeth together. Arekoth is better in the water once he's mostly submerged, and he sets to his slow, prancing paddle to get around. << Well so long as you'll let me. >> There's a humour in that, and it's accented with a blowing of bubbles. Cold bubbles. "I have not failed in 'stopping him' before with any other gold's flight. I do not imagine this will be any different." H'kon shifts his footing, allowing some new bloodflow into his legs.

"I guess it's just I don't recall ever seeing Arekoth out swimming with any of the other golds, sir." Miniyal slides her glace sidewise to peer at the other rider, no emotion visible in her expression. "I could care less either way. It's turns from now. But if I need to be doing something about it then I should be told so I can. However, if you're sure there is no problem I will put it from my mind. There is plenty I can talk about instead." Yes, H'kon should learn to flee someday. In the water Peloth observes the brown as she swims out and back in. She prefers the deep water where she can be mostly submerged. <>

"Arekoth does not know any of the other golds in such a way," H'kon points out quite simply. "I imagine once you are no longer a weyrling, they will see much less of each other anyway. And as I have said, I know his signs, I have not yet failed in controlling his... ideas." He rocks back a bit on his heels, and gloved hands are linked behind his back. Chin is tilted upward, eyes squinted as there's a gust of wind, and then he's happily observing the lake. Maybe if he doesn't look at her, Miniyal won't talk. <>

Blinking at hair blown in her eyes Miniyal looks over at H'kon again. Like shutting her up is that easy. "Oh, please, sir. I steal free time now. I should be sitting in some dumb classroom right now. When I am done with all this we'll have more time. I've been a junior weyrwoman's assistant. Twice. I know what sort of work I will be doing. None of it will take that much time. Especially considering how much faith our weyrleaders have in me not to fuck things up." Shoulders shrug and she pulls a hand from her pocket to brush hair from her eyes. "Anyway, we could discuss other things if you prefer. I'll even let you choose the subject so there is no deep conversation about the wrongs of torture or the lack of a viable penal system or the proper way to handle all this Five Mines' nonsense." In the water Peloth swims out to the center of the lake and paddles around in circles. <>

H'kon still doesn't look at her. "Then let us talk about this 'free time' of yours. Why are you not in your class? Or perhaps we could discuss the tone and choice of words used with those who outrank you, if only at the time." Head hs tilted a bit to the side, in something of an extended twitch of annoyance. "Perhaps it is best you return to your classes so as to be fully prepared for the aspects of your future duties that perhaps you do not yet understand." And shoulders lift with a breath, which is let out slowly. Arekoth launches himself on an intercept for Peloth's circles, prance-swimming away. << Well you can always be nice to me. >> A swish of his tail has him rotating a little. << She worries him, that's all. >> The brown clearly doesn't put much importance to this worry.

Peloth watches the potential intercept and makes no move to alter her course. It is her course. If he intercepts she will just have to deal with it somehow. <> She's so nice. And honest. << He does not worry her. She thinks he is dumb. For not doing things. >> Likely she would be upset to know that thought was shared. But since she doesn't know Miniyal can focus on her conversation. "Sir, I worked in records. I /ran/ records. I hate classrooms. Lessons that are specifically dealing with what I need to know as opposed to what everyone needs to know aren't happening with everyone else. Besides, I have an excuse. I was sick." A pause so she might shrug her shoulders. "I am better now. However, if you wish to discuss my choice of words please do. Which offends you, sir?"

Arekoth does complete the intercept. And reaches out to prod at the young queen with his muzzle. Tag. And then he's moving away. << He is not dumb. >> A stronger resolve goes to that, and the brown peers over his shoulder to Peloth. Any defensiveness is soon forgotten. << There are lots of things he does, and lots of things he doesn't do. >> H'kon snorts. "Do not pretend stupidity." Maybe that's a veiled compliment, somewhere in there. "Now you ought to be with the others. Soon enough you will be separate from them anyway."

"If I have to listen to an instructor repeat himself one more time because some idiot was too busy or dumb to fucking listen to what was being said I will scream." No, she won't. Miniyal doesn't even raise her voice. She doesn't even sound annoyed. It's all the same emotionless tone that has governed her for some time now. "So, no offense, sir, but if you're so keen on that you go sit in the class. I'm not behind on any lessons. The ones I need to be there for I am. The others I am not until D'ven or Issa drag me back to them. It's good for them. It builds character." Miniyal, character builder. Peloth is tagged and she watches the brown move away. Just watches, for now. << He does not use his brain. She says. She says that he wastes time doing what he is told always when he could do other things that are right. We do not always do what we are told. >> Perhaps that sense of pride in that last sentence is troublesome. It is merely pride for her. They are above always doing what others say.

"I attended all my lessons when we were weyrlings," H'kon points out. "It is not me that is required there." Arekoth's pace is slowing when it seems Peloth isn't chasing him. << He does use his brain. He just makes decisions. >> A wing is swept to splash some water in her direction. <> Arekoth is no stick-in-the-mud, thank you. "It does not build character. It disrespects authority and takes time away from those who need it for more than disciplinary issues." H'kon does look over to the woman now. "Anyway, we will not be cause for your continued presence outside of your classes." Arekoth gets a look. Which the brown ignores.

Peloth does not chase until she wants to. And when she is splashed she darts forward, swift in the water, to splash back. Without stopping as she zooms by and then turns to face him again. << Slow. >> Pointed out with little tendrils of amusement creeping into his mind. Rather than a full out assault like what usually comes from her. "Nonsense, sir. Us disciplinary issues need time too." Miniyal might have smiled at that before, but this time she just looks out in the water. Still looking in the water she says, "I have not yet failed in controlling his... ideas." The look between wingrider and brown must have been noticed.

Arekoth is positively thrilled at the forward dart, and as soon as she's spoken, he sends another wave toward the gold - and this time, swims away, making a point of moving more quickly. << Only testing. >> H'kon, for his part, has turned red in the face, despite his best attempts. Maybe it's the cold. "Weyrling, you must return to your classroom." This time, it's a glare sent to Arekoth, who, barely having had time to finish his escape pattern, gives a rumble. << Every time I am enjoying myself... he says it is time to go. >> Though there's no sense of blind obedience in the dragon's mind, at least.

It is quite likely that in the back of her mind Miniyal feels guilty about her conversations with H'kon. She teases him horribly, but since he continues to talk to her she must figure it's not truly bothering him. "Nonsense. It's a beautiful day outside, sir. I am learning much more out here." Now she's deliberately being a brat. << You do not have to listen to him. I do not always listen to her. Sometimes she gets things wrong. >> But Peloth makes no attempt to chase and instead turns to head back towards the shore. << Stop bringing him along. We will have more fun without them. >> Completely innocently said. A child knowing that mom and dad only make things more boring.

H'kon, tired and colder than he's willing to admit, is certainly not in the mood for the bratty jibes of a weyrling. Even if her lifemate is quite shiny. "Well I only hope that he time given to disciplinary cases such as yourself will not be wasted." Arekoth has turned in too, but is paddling slowly. A little bit of defiance. <> As the wtaer gets more shallow, Arekoth stretches out his wings to let them dry, even if the wind is cold, and the evaporating water emphasises it. <>

Miniyal's eyes follows the inward bound dragons rather than look over at the other rider. "Oh, it usually is, sir. But feel free to register a complain anyway. Have a good day." A snappy little salute, nearly taunting, is given and then she turns to leave. Peloth takes her time coming out of the water and once out she gives a last little head bump to the brown's shoulder. << Good. We do not need them to make things dull. You must show me your tricks. >> Cold droplets of water mark her path as she follows her rider back to the weyrling complex. Neither of them in any hurry to get back to their life.

H'kon returns the salute, making full sure that it's done properly, to contrast any hints of taunting from Miniyal. Arekoth, of course, returns the head-bump, his amusement for the move easily felt, if not outright vocalised. << Oh, I promise, >> is agreed for the tricks. And then H'kon - poor H'kon - gets a head-bump from the brown to. Just when he was trying to storm off to the caverns.