[Jaeyi] Unpulled strings. (Vignette)
I'm a vig-fool this week. XD Jaeyi has crap to work through, and it ain't like she can just go blabbing to anyone to get it off her mind.
The ceiling wasn't familiar yet. Jaeyi stared at it in the dim light, finding the faces in the cracks, making shapes out of the irregularities, thinking thinking thinking. Her second night at the Hold was a lot less eventful than her first, though she still luxuriated in the glow of that night, pleased, satisfied. Normally, a new lover, a night like last night would be enough to clear her head and reset her thoughts, but her bags weren't the only things she brought with her from the Weyr.
She had managed to put it out of mind for the most part, to replace the thought with others, of packing, of unpacking, of looking forward to last night, of getting her bearings in a new kitchen, of her first full day at the Hold. Now, she lay on her back on her bed, in her very decent jammies, one hand shoved between her pillow and her mattress, and she stared at the ceiling, and she couldn't replace the thought with any others.
For more than two Turns, Jaeyi had believed in T'rev. She believed in his decency, integrity, capability. If anyone could fix something, T'rev could. How many times had she bolstered him with her faith? How many hours, since he became Weyrleader, had she listened to his troubles, offered her complete trust that he would solve things somehow, distracted him when he needed distracting? And now, when she could most use that belief, when things might actually be tested between them, now she doubted him.
If the Weyrleader of Fort couldn't offer her father amnesty-- her father, who she thought was dead, who she grieved for and eventually buried in her mind even if there was no corpse to mourn, who had been captured, who had bartered his integrity for his life, who was an unhappy accomplice, who was risking his life to send information to the Weyr that could help...
If the Weyrleader of Fort couldn't offer her father amnesty, who could?
Irritated with the endless circling thoughts, she rolled on her side, her eyes drifting blankly across her scattered possessions, things half-unpacked and strewn across her vanity where Sugar had helpfully made an even bigger mess of things. His version of unpacking.
If the Weyrleader of Fort...
...a spill of red, rubies, rubies she so loved to wear with that cranberry red dress...
Couldn't offer her father amnesty...
...a gilded mark dangling from a ribbon, carefully hung from the center post of the vanity mirror, unworn so there'd need to be no explanation if it was discovered on her person...
Who could...
...a gilded purple ribbon, left where it fell at the end of the night, pooled on the stool of her vanity, plum and gold...
T'rev had never, in all their time together, used his rank to help her. She respected him for that. But not all men had such integrity. Some men-- some men were willing to do a lot of things for the affection of a pretty girl, some men enjoyed the hero worship that the employment of their rank could bring them. She may not be able to rush right to him and ask for his help, to throw herself at his feet, but there was a man who was perfectly willing to pull strings for her already. Those strings had dangled her in his grasp, plucked her from the Weyr and deposited her at the Hold.
Perhaps there were strings that could keep her father out of jail.
The ceiling wasn't familiar yet. Jaeyi stared at it in the dim light, finding the faces in the cracks, making shapes out of the irregularities, thinking thinking thinking. Her second night at the Hold was a lot less eventful than her first, though she still luxuriated in the glow of that night, pleased, satisfied. Normally, a new lover, a night like last night would be enough to clear her head and reset her thoughts, but her bags weren't the only things she brought with her from the Weyr.
She had managed to put it out of mind for the most part, to replace the thought with others, of packing, of unpacking, of looking forward to last night, of getting her bearings in a new kitchen, of her first full day at the Hold. Now, she lay on her back on her bed, in her very decent jammies, one hand shoved between her pillow and her mattress, and she stared at the ceiling, and she couldn't replace the thought with any others.
For more than two Turns, Jaeyi had believed in T'rev. She believed in his decency, integrity, capability. If anyone could fix something, T'rev could. How many times had she bolstered him with her faith? How many hours, since he became Weyrleader, had she listened to his troubles, offered her complete trust that he would solve things somehow, distracted him when he needed distracting? And now, when she could most use that belief, when things might actually be tested between them, now she doubted him.
If the Weyrleader of Fort couldn't offer her father amnesty-- her father, who she thought was dead, who she grieved for and eventually buried in her mind even if there was no corpse to mourn, who had been captured, who had bartered his integrity for his life, who was an unhappy accomplice, who was risking his life to send information to the Weyr that could help...
If the Weyrleader of Fort couldn't offer her father amnesty, who could?
Irritated with the endless circling thoughts, she rolled on her side, her eyes drifting blankly across her scattered possessions, things half-unpacked and strewn across her vanity where Sugar had helpfully made an even bigger mess of things. His version of unpacking.
If the Weyrleader of Fort...
...a spill of red, rubies, rubies she so loved to wear with that cranberry red dress...
Couldn't offer her father amnesty...
...a gilded mark dangling from a ribbon, carefully hung from the center post of the vanity mirror, unworn so there'd need to be no explanation if it was discovered on her person...
Who could...
...a gilded purple ribbon, left where it fell at the end of the night, pooled on the stool of her vanity, plum and gold...
T'rev had never, in all their time together, used his rank to help her. She respected him for that. But not all men had such integrity. Some men-- some men were willing to do a lot of things for the affection of a pretty girl, some men enjoyed the hero worship that the employment of their rank could bring them. She may not be able to rush right to him and ask for his help, to throw herself at his feet, but there was a man who was perfectly willing to pull strings for her already. Those strings had dangled her in his grasp, plucked her from the Weyr and deposited her at the Hold.
Perhaps there were strings that could keep her father out of jail.