[Log] A Dark and Stormy Night
Who: Aida, E'sere, Sinopa
When: Day 2, Month 6, turn 2, 7th Pass
Where: Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr
What: E'sere talks to Aida like he didn't just put a hit out on her.
Living Cavern
Large enough to hold the majority of the Weyr's human population, this cavern can become loud enough to deafen thanks to the acoustics caused by its size. The ceiling is so far overhead that it's cast into shadow, a darkness that is broken only by the spark and glitter of a lucky beam of light striking the minerals found in the rock walls. Below, most of the floor is covered with an assortment of long tables and benches. There are some smaller tables, surrounded by chairs, but privacy appears to be a rare thing in this bustling cavern. Large hearths line the west wall, with fires burning day and night to warm the food and drink that keep the Weyr's inhabitants fueled. The serving tables are near the hearth, opposite the dais that holds the single table reserved for the Weyr leadership and honored guests.
Contents:
Aida
Obvious Exits:
Upper Caverns (UC) Lower Caverns (LC) Kitchen (K)
Infirmary (INF) Bowl (B)
At High Reaches Weyr, it is 00:10 on day 3, month 6, turn 2 of the 7th Pass.
The night's stretching long, the living cavern beginning to clear, but one man, at least, is giving no signs of vacating the room just yet. By the hearths, E'sere has seated himself, sipping idly at a glass of wine. Most of his time is divided between watching the fire or those who pass close by him, with the occasional glass toward the doorway when a particularly loud crack of thunder jars across the Weyr. The storm outside shows no sign of abating yet, probably the reason E'sere is still hanging around now.
Another sleepless night; the storm probably has something to do with it. Aida hovers near the entrance to the cavern, watching for the shock of a lightning strike and the way it brightens everything. She's her own mug of something cradled in both hands, occasionally sipped from -- every boom of thunder when it sounds causes a brief smile that fades away again soon enough. No, the loud noises don't seem to bother her. What does do it is the shift of the wind and the sudden facefull of rain that she gets. It's not bad, of course, but it's certainly enough to make her back-pedal away from the opening like a cat sprayed with a hose. A bit of blinking, a dirty look outside -- as if the rain did it on purpose -- and then she's turning to circle towards the warmth of the hearths. She doesn't sit down promptly, instead standing about as close to the heat as she can manage, one hand wiping at her face. Wet. Hiss. Hiss. Pfft.
True to form, E'sere looks up again as Aida approaches and settles near him, offering a brief smile that drifts to curious as he takes in her semi-wet appearance. A glance to the doorway, then back at her, as he decides she couldn't have been out in it--she's not wet enough for /that/. So, after a moment, smile more friendly, he notes, "We usually keep the door shut for a reason. Evening."
Starting to sink into some sort of daze, Aida's attention is caught by the voice, and she shifts on her feet enough to fix her eyes on the man speaking -- swiftly enough identifying the source that she can't have been all that far gone. He's taken in in two heartbeats of silent study, and then she's summoning up a warm smile. "Evening," she greets. "And I know, but it's the first storm of the summer I've managed to catch. Watching it there isn't anything like watching it over the ocean in the distance, but it's beautiful all the same, don't you think?" Another flick of her hand with the few last drops from her face, and her fingers are lowered entirely to wrap with the other around her mug.
E'sere glances again at the door, nodding absently. "I suppose so. Not that I've often looked at it that way, I don't believe. I was actually just sitting here hoping it'd let up soon so I could go home without--" A gesture toward the girl opposite incidates the state he'd not like to be in when he gets there. "We've met, haven't we? You seem very familiar, but I can't put a name to the face, I'm sorry. Wingleader E'sere."
Laughter escaping, Aida shakes her head and nods her agreement as she slips over to drop down into a nearby chair once he's offered his introduction. "Being soaked; I know. I'm dawdling for much the same reason," she agrees lightly. "And well, we haven't really 'met', but we have spoken -- and only briefly, at that. Aida. It's a pleasure to actually meet you, Wingleader."
E'sere takes another idle sip of his wine, grinning more broadenly as she confirms his theory. "I thought so," he agrees, pleased. "And to meet you as well. How are you this evening? Other than soaking wet, obviously. Would you like me to get you a napkin or anything to dry off with?"
Unwrapping a hand from around her mug, Aida lifts it and waves it in a vaguely dismissive gesture, somewhat indicating the hearths. "I'll dry off in no time," she says. "But thank you. And I'm well, of course. Yourself, sir?"
"Well, if you're sure," E'sere concedes the point, leaning back again and regarding Aida. Another drink, then: "I'm quite well myself, thank you," he answers. "Enjoying a night off, really, even with this storm. If there's one thing about being trapped in here by thunder," the bronzerider jokes lightly, "it's that it drowns out the hides in my weyr that are calling my name."
Giving a little stretch, Aida pulls her legs up into her chair beneath her, feet staying off but the rest of her curled into the chair's arm. Comfortable. Her attention swings briefly to the hearths, coming back to E'sere fairly promptly so she can offer him a smile -- there's even a light chuckle for the joke. "You know, I hadn't thought of that -- but it certainly does seem to have that effect, doesn't it?" A roll of her eyes, playful -- it matches her smile. A beat later, she's lifting her glass up in something of a note. "To nights off, however they're gained."
"To nights off," agrees E'sere with another grin, his raised glass echoing Aida's motion. He takes the requisite sip slowly, then allows a slow, thoughtful frown to dawn across his mouth. "Aida," he repeats her name. "The headmaster's assistant, no?" is his question.
When he sips, so does she; Aida settles back again and exhales a sigh that is all content. Right now, the young woman is apparently supremely comfortable. Apparently the storm is good for her mood. The thoughtful frown quirks an eyebrow on her face, her head tilting just so to the side to complete the quizzical look. When the question comes, understanding dawns, and her smile returns as she nods easily. "The very one," she agrees lightly. "I would like to assure you that at least half of whatever you may have heard of me is hardly true; I am the very example of sweetness and light. Just to get that out of the way." There's humor threaded through those words, very little seriousness allowed into her tone.
E'sere laughs, shaking his head. "I've heard nothing--nothing bad, at least," he reassures her. "Or if I had, I'm wise enough not to say it. I only know your name, that's all; I try to keep up with that much, at least. And... (if it's not too bold for me to say), you're also--involved, with Br'ce? I know him, not well, but."
"You are very sweet to say so," Aida informs him, tone suddenly solemn to go with the wide eyed look. "Or to not say so, at least." That look is dismissed a heartbeat later, an impish grin brightening her face back up. "It's not too bold, or if it is, I don't care. Yes; I am involved with Br'ce." Beat. "I think you now know more about me than I know about you." If she only knew. "So tell me, Wingleader...aside from a fine taste for wine and the leading of a wing, what do you do with yourself?"
"Some people are touchy about such things," E'sere excuses his deference in the matter, though he offers Aida another smile. "And, I only try to keep up with the news around here, when I can. I don't always succeed, but." A shrug, another sip; and then he purses his lips again, thoughtful. "I think you've summed me up right there," he admits wryly after a moment. "I'm afraid my wing takes up most of my time, whether in drills, paperwork, or my riders dropping in at all hours of day and night to talk."
Grimacing and giving a little mock-shudder to go with it, Aida follows that with a sympathetic smile. "I understand, as much as I can. Br'ce is...so busy." A light shake of her head, and she exhales a soft little chuckle. "A lot of the 'news' around here is hardly that -- keeping up with it is all well and good, but...well." One shoulder is shrugged. "You've the right of that little tidbit, at least."
Sinopa enters through the tunnel that leads from the upper caverns.
Sinopa has arrived.
"I can imagine," sympathizes E'sere, smile tightening slightly. He and Aida are seated by the hearths late this evening, while the storm rages outside; the latter is damp but looks quite comfortable in her chair despite that. E'sere is, typically, more properly seated in his chair"Getting a wing in order--especially one in the condition 3C was, just a short time ago--is no easy matter. To do so /twice/..." He shakes his head, studying the wine remaining in his glass before finally finishing it up. The empty glass is set by his feet, to be cleared away later; for the moment, he glances back to Aida. "I was fortunate: my predecessor retired with everything well in order for me. Fortunate indeed, considering I'd just graduated from the Caucus and didn't know /any/thing about the practicalities of leadership."
Her legs are even tucked up beneath her in the chair (though her feet are still hanging off). Aida is supremely comfortable, damp as she might be. She sips from her mug lightly, her expression losing some of the chipper to be traded in for attentive interest in the bronzerider's words. "He's dealing with it very well," she says once the man has finished, and there is absolute certainty in her voice. "It's not an easy thing, it certainly isn't...but if anyone can do it and do it well, Br'ce most certainly can. Especially with that bunch." Beat. "You attended the Caucus? Interesting. How long have you been a Wingleader? From what I have heard, I'd never have guessed you've ever had troubles."
The benefits of rank and location ensure that Sinopa, through use of shortcuts, does not need to venture out into the bowl in such weather. Instead the weyrwoman arrives entirely dry and far less ruffled than a good deal many of the riders who must cross the bowl. Moments after her entrance into the living caverns the presence of a few others is noted, though it is towards E'sere and Aida by the hearths that the young woman chooses to venture. Stepping lightly across the room, she claims a seat nearby before smiling warmly at the two already there and announcing her presence with a simple, "Good evening."
E'sere ducks his head slightly, hiding a small grin at her defense of the brownrider. "Indeed, so I've heard. No casualties yet--that's quite an accomplishment," he agrees, glancing up again then. He's not quite got that grin completely tucked away still. "I've been fortunate, but. Yes, I attended it. This is my... fifth turn as wingleader," he calculate quickly. "I spent four years in the Caucus--the first one--right after weyrlinghood, and straight after that I took over 2C. Good evening, Weyrwoman. How are you?" He tacks the latter greeting on easily, looking over and extending another of those quick smiles to Sinopa when she comes to rest nearby.
Rather than looking offended at the spotting of that little grin, Aida's eyes spark with amusement and she flashes him an impish smile, nodding in response to the answer to her question. Any words though, are derailed by the arrival and greeting of Sinopa, and so her attention swings that way. An instant of study, and then she's flashing her warm smile that way too. "Good evening, Weyrwoman," she greets, tone warm and cheerful. Her mug is lifted that way in a sort of salute, and then she's falling into quiet to let the other two speak without her interrupting.
Sinopa settles into her claimed seat a little more, leaning back into the chair and then crossing her legs. Hands smooth her skirt over her thighs and then she's still, sitting there with her hands folded in her lap. "I'm quite well," she replies to E'sere, "And how are you and Morelenth this evening, Wingleader?" Though before waiting for a reply her gaze returns to Aida, "And your evening?" A name might be attached, were the junior to actually know who Aida is. After the girl has been questioned, her dark eyes once more return to look at E'sere, as though expecting a reply from him first.
"Good to hear. I'm quite well myself," E'sere agrees with Sinopa, nodding once in affirmation. "You're fortunate--no cutting through the bowl for you. Wouldn't do to muss your hair," he says lightly, teasingly. Then: "Ah. Weyrwoman, this is Aida, Headmaster Sefton's assistant," he introduces the former. "We were just discussing our wings--well, mine and Br'ce's, rather," is his amendment.
Sipping again from her mug of tea, Aida's eyes flit back and forth between the pair, her smile softening to something more lazy, but not fading away entirely. It's only after she's introduced that she lifts her mug to the woman again, once more greeting. "My evening goes very well, thank you. It's good to meet you."
"Oh, the headmaster's assistant." If there was going to be more to what the junior had to say, it is cut off by a nod that sends quite dry and non-mussed curls bouncing lightly. "Glad to hear it and meet you." Sinopa's eyes then drift back over to E'sere and she favors the wingleader with a smile. "Fortunate, yes. I'm always reluctant to go outside when it storms so loudly." Flashes of lightening and thunder are apparently intimidating to the young goldrider. "Ahh, and how are the wings doing? I trust all is well with yours?"
E'sere cocks an easy smile again for Sinopa, nodding. "2C's doing well--as well as can be expected, anyway. Things have... Well, we're understandably rattled after T'zen's injury, but we'll be in good order again in a day or two," he admits. Then, to Aida: "Ah, I remember what I was going to say now," he notes. "Wingleader Br'ce's wingsecond--D'ven. I met him the other night. An interesting fellow, if a quarter of /those/ rumors are true?"
Another smile for Sinopa, and Aida starts to settle into silence -- until E'sere mentions T'zen's injury. Her attention jerks over to the bronzerider and locks into place, concern immediately quite apparent in her expression. "T'zen's injury?" She asks, sitting up in her chair some. "What happened? I...have not yet met D'ven, nor do I know if rumors about him are true or not. What happened to T'zen?"
Sinopa both softens and tenses at the mention of the injured bluerider. Her body is tense, though the expression on her face is soft with a touch of concern at this latest in a series of tragedies. Although such incidents are nothing particularly novel given the current atmosphere, the news that another crime has been committed is always cause for alarm. "Have you been in to see him? And Issa? Are they both well?" There's a pause and then she relaxes back into the chair, tension draining out of her posture. "Shame. It seemed as though everything had been... quiet as of late. Any... leads, by chance?" Although Sinopa's a weyroman, she's in the dark if there have been any new developments as it's typically the men of the weyr who get pulled into these investigations and have all the interesting tidbits as to who is involved, or who might have been involved.
E'sere's brows arch at Aida's reaction, lips pursing. "I believe he was stabbed," he admits after a moment. "In the stomach, somewhere in the lower caverns. Issa--do you know her?--was hurt as well: from what I gather, she was attacked first, and T'zen stumbled upon it. Oshisyth sent Morelenth a message, but--" He shakes his head. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to upset you," the wingleader apologizes sheepishly. To Sinopa: "No, I haven't yet, though I plan to when I get a chance, and they've had a little time to recover. I... I am investigating the matter."
Stabbed. Blink. Blink. Wait -- injury noted, not death. Pieces click into place, and Aida's shocked expression is discarded, her smile reappearing (though it's tense, strained). "No; it's alright. There's no need to apologize," she says. "Issa, too." That's followed by an under the breath curse, and she takes another gulp from her mug before she sets it down on the floor, uncurling and rising to her feet. "If you both would be so kind as to excuse me? It was very nice meeting the both of you formally; I look forward to further conversations." Cheeks that were already fairly pale are more so, now. Just a bit.
Sinopa nods very slightly in regards to E'sere's reply and smiles wanly at the man. Even she looks a little queasy at the mention of a stab wound. "Ahh, then we'll have made some progress in no time, then, hmm?" A vote of confidence for the bronzerider - nothing mocking or insincere at all. Her head turns to regard Aida once more and a nod is given to the headmaster's assistant. "Nice to meet you. Stay safe." An all too fitting farewell in times such as these. For a moment the weyrwoman watches the girl depart before she remarks, slightly off-handedly, to the bronzerider. "Shame that not even dragonriders are safe."
"It's... probably a little late to go visiting," E'sere notes, brows knitting in concern as he half-rises after Aida. A glance backward, to Sinopa, acknowledges her own words; but most of his attention is on the paling girl trying to flee.
"I expect that it is," Aida agrees smoothly, that smile staying on her lips. "And he's likely asleep; I can still sneak a look at his chart and speak to the attending healer." She lifts a hand, gestures him back to his seat. "Thank you." A glance over towards Sinopa, a dip of her head. "And you as well, Weyrwoman." And she's turning on a heel to start for the infirmary.
There's nothing Sinopa need add about the hours of the infirmary and the need for injured riders to rest. Besides, there's likely someone about to shoo off gawkers. Another nod is given to the departing girl and then she looks back to E'sere, waiting to see if her company is all going to disappear.
"If you're sure. Good night, Aida," E'sere concedes, brows still knitted until she departs. Only then does he retake his seat, rubbing at his eyes a moment and then glancing to Sinopa. "I do hope so," he answers her earlier words then, quietly. "I've theories, suspicions--but no more."
Aida moves into the infirmary.
Aida has left.
"Theories and suspicions?" Sinopa queries, looking a little surprised. Then again, the bronzerider has perhaps only been working on this particular case for a short time. "And a whole network to draw on," she replies somewhat smugly. "I'm sure you'll be able to... illuminate the manner shortly. Sort some of this out for us and quiet it all down."
"I'm doing everything I can," agrees E'sere with a nod and a small smile. "I've everyone on the matter that I can, but... Well." A shrug as he demurs, "I won't trouble you with my problems. Do you think the storm's let up yet? I've not heard any thunder in a while, though I imagine it's still raining." He glances to the door, frowning once more as he studies the doors.
"Your problems wouldn't be any trouble," the young goldrider murmurs. At the change in conversational topics she turns to look at the door as well, then shrugs her shoulders lightly. "I haven't heard any thunder for a while, either," Sinopa replies. "Though I haven't really been listening for it. It's quieter in here than in other areas, though the upper caverns are far quieter." Being more insulated by rock and further from a direct exit to the outdoors.
E'sere quirks another half-smile for Sinopa, shoulders lifting as he shrugs off her words. "Perhaps I'll venture out, then," he tells her. "If it's stopped, or at least just sprinkling, I can have Morelenth meet me now. If not, well. I suppose I'll wait a little longer?" He cants a sideways look at her.
"Oh, don't stay out on my behalf," the goldrider replies with a shake of her head and the hint of a laugh. The statement is immediately contradicted though when Sinopa adds, "Though, if it's not too much trouble... I don't suppose you would mind walking back with me to my weyr?" There's a touch of coyness in that request as she turns her large dark eyes on the bronzerider. "Remembering the... things that have... happened.. well... has me a little worried."
"I'd hate," says E'sere solemnly, "to leave you to wander the halls alone with things the way they are. It's not safe out there." As ever, he offers an arm to the goldrider as he stands, before starting off toward her weyr.
No, it is not safe. Not when two riders have been attacked in the caverns. "I appreciate it," Sinopa replies, standing up and straightening before she accepts that arm. She'll allow the bronzerider to lead the way, though through the passages of the caverns ought to be safe with him there to deter possible attackers, right?