[LOG] - Ulyana: Questions
Title: Questions
Summary: Ulyana meets Lilah. More questions are asked than answered - and none of the questions asked are answered.
Characters: Lilah, Ulyana
Location: Records Room, Fort Weyr
Time: Day 6, month 7, turn 35 of Interval 10
RL Date: 08/12/2014
It's just another busy afternoon for Ulyana. If it's not helping with some of the ledgers, it's helping to copy records; if it's not copying records, it's filing. It's the latter that she's engaged in at the moment, with a stack of scrolls and books on a nearby table just waiting for her to put them away. She has to stretch for some of them - and some will require a ladder - but she's at the task dutifully, lost in the work and momentarily oblivious to the world while she puts things to rights. Every now and again, she stops and pulls something down to add to the stack - clearly something that's been misplaced - but, for the most part, she's a little machine, this former Candidate-that-shouldn't-have-been. Back and forth; back and forth.
It is another busy afternoon for Lilah as well, though the majority of her morning and afternoon has been taken up with drills and duties outside of the Weyr. Her knot still designating her as just a goldrider rather than a weyrwoman, her duties do not tend to be record related. Yet still, the young woman is striding into the records room at the moment, tugging gloves from her fingers rather than giving her attention to those around her. It seems practiced, a way to ignore those that may stop and watch her or those that murmur whispered rumors to their companions. She stops at that table of scrolls and books, a title apparently catching her attention given that she moves one scroll softly to peer at whatever is underneath.
The arrival of another is not enough to cause Ulyana to look. It's only when she turns to retrieve a few more books that she spots potential interference with her duties. She pauses, forehead furrowed and mouth pressed into a bloodless line. There's a moment, two, perhaps two too many, before she intones, "Are you looking for something in particular?" Dutiful, yes, but there's an odd flatness to her tone; a natural affect. Nothing further is said; nothing further probably needs to be. The titles are a strange lot, though, if the goldrider digs deeper, she'll find plenty of old clutching and flight records among the other, seemingly unrelated titles that have been collected. While she awaits an answer, the girl goes to retrieve a few of the books, with a sidelong look spared for whatever one she perceives as having caught the goldrider's eye.
The one that seems to have caught Lilah's eye is morbid, at best. It is a detailed collection of deaths within the Weyr, collected by various Weyrhealers to preserve how certain injuries and illnesses were treated and spread. It's easy to tell that it has caught her eye, since she picks it up rather than letting Ulyana refile it, though she does look briefly through the rest of the records. "Just this," the goldrider answers simply, her gaze lifting to the girl with a quick slip of dark eyes over her in an almost habitual study. It's when she finds that makeshift knot that the redhead reacts--well, not /reacts/, but she certainly stills in quick tension, her gaze narrowing as it settles more fully on Ulyana. Quietly, she follows and it seems as if she does just to add without raising her voice, "There isn't an answer in any of those."
"I see." Ulyana's head tilts at an avian-like angle for just a moment. "I enjoyed that one," she admits, with a shallow tip of her chin toward the book that Lilah takes up. "There are a few others like it over there. I can show you, if you would like." She picks up the armload of records and is just on her way to put them with the rest when the goldrider's reaction registers. The young woman doesn't stop in her duty, nor does she slow; when the words come, they're met with a half-turn and a dead expression. A slow blink follows and her mouth contorts just slightly to one side. "No. There are no answers." The collection of scrolls are held to her chest absently, as if she were loath to put them down randomly for the sake of conversation. Her tone is certain; her voice remains flat. "I suspect that is only because you have not written them."
Lilah does not take advantage of the girl's offer, shaking her head simply in answer as she tucks the book under her arm. The wince, the set of the jaw that comes after? That, at least, doesn't seem to be for Ulyana where there is a moment where the goldrider's attention is turned inward. To the ex-Candidate, she replies with an ease that seems to belie the subject, "When I have the answer, I will be sure to record it. But, if you are looking to me for answers, you may be waiting for a while when even the dragonhealers and older riders--." She lifts a hand in a gesture to finish her sentence, a helpless little wave of fingers.
"I will understand if she was just playing pretend at being a mother." Ulyana keeps her gaze squarely on Lilah all the while, unblinking and inscrutable and strange. There's only a faint shift and slide of her expression at the wince and seizing of the other woman's jaw; confusion more than anything else. It settles out swiftly. She turns to more fully face the goldrider, either fearless or stupid - or plainly uncaring. "No gold has risen and failed to clutch," she intones. "They either rise and clutch or do not rise. If there are records that state otherwise, I would like very much to see them. Until then, the answers are yours and hers alone."
It is clear that Ulyana's suggestion takes Lilah by surprise. At least, it is a new one that she hasn't heard before, it seems. And for all that, her reaction is only the lift of her brows curving upwards and the brief moment where her lips part before they close on whatever her first thought is. Instead, the goldrider takes a moment to watch the ex-Candidate and consider her words, tipping her head slightly. "It's true that I haven't found any records of a gold doing it," she agrees. "Plenty of records of /greens/, but besides working on the theory that my dragon is just a funnily colored green... She wasn't playing, --" a pause as her dark gaze searches Ulyana's for a name. "That much I /do/ know. The changes, the emotions, the flight were not fake." Though, there is a dryness to those last words, as if she already expects not to be believed.
The quest for a name is one that will go without resolution for now, cool gray eyes reflecting everything - and revealing nothing. Ulyana doesn't seem to catch that cue; she's far more interested in the pieces and parts she can fit together into something. The lapse between Lilah's words and her reply is an awkward span of time, one in which she's clearly parsing everything and letting it grind through the gears of her mind. Eventually: "I used to be able to make myself sick when I was younger. If I believed I was sick, I could give myself a sore throat, a cough - fever would come eventually on its own." She finally turns to start putting the scrolls away, but her words continue, flat and steady and free of judgment. "I have heard of women who would display all the signs of pregnancy without being pregnant. Who is to say that cannot happen to dragons, too? Perhaps she convinced herself she was ready. Perhaps she lied to herself."
"Because, dragon minds are not nearly as complicated and complex as ours," Lilah replies with the slight shake of her head in a gesture. "If she had tricked herself, she'd forget in a few days, before she ever rose. She may have displayed some signs of rising and then forgotten, or she might have suddenly rose, but she didn't do either." Her gaze still lingers on Ulyana, and this time, she asks, "What is your name?" before adding, "My dragon has never been mentally unstable, and the induced pregnancy, making yourself sick? Mindhealers have documented that it occurs when the person is under stress or otherwise unstable."
The scrolls are put away and Ulyana pivots neatly on a heel to face Lilah again. "That is disappointing to hear," she replies, with only a slight souring of her expression to further underscore that disappointment. The girl moves to retrieve another couple of books, though the question of her name arrests her only for a moment. "Ulyana of Crom Hold." No reciprocal question is asked; there is no need. A pause follows while she stacks the books, then: "Have you been under stress? Have you ever felt unstable?" Both questions are asked while she seeks to square her gaze against Lilah's own. "Before the flight? After? For no reason at all?"
For a moment, it seems as if Lilah must think she misheard the girl's questions, her gaze widening only slightly before narrowing again on the ex-Candidate. "I am not mentally ill, but /thank you/ for your concern," she says dryly, an edge of annoyance to her words even as she marks the girl's name with a tip of her chin sharply. Those dark eyes skim over Ulyana again, as if trying to determine something, but in the end the goldrider decides to turn on a heel and start in the direction she came.
"That is not one of the questions I asked." Ulyana, however, is plainly accustomed to this sort of response. There's little to determine of her that's not plainly on display; the unmoving, unblinking girl is peculiar in her flatness all around and this is only momentarily cracked when the goldrider turns on a heel. "I see," says she, and she remains as she is until Lilah's long gone and the books in her arms remind her of their presence through their weight.
Summary: Ulyana meets Lilah. More questions are asked than answered - and none of the questions asked are answered.
Characters: Lilah, Ulyana
Location: Records Room, Fort Weyr
Time: Day 6, month 7, turn 35 of Interval 10
RL Date: 08/12/2014
It's just another busy afternoon for Ulyana. If it's not helping with some of the ledgers, it's helping to copy records; if it's not copying records, it's filing. It's the latter that she's engaged in at the moment, with a stack of scrolls and books on a nearby table just waiting for her to put them away. She has to stretch for some of them - and some will require a ladder - but she's at the task dutifully, lost in the work and momentarily oblivious to the world while she puts things to rights. Every now and again, she stops and pulls something down to add to the stack - clearly something that's been misplaced - but, for the most part, she's a little machine, this former Candidate-that-shouldn't-have-been. Back and forth; back and forth.
It is another busy afternoon for Lilah as well, though the majority of her morning and afternoon has been taken up with drills and duties outside of the Weyr. Her knot still designating her as just a goldrider rather than a weyrwoman, her duties do not tend to be record related. Yet still, the young woman is striding into the records room at the moment, tugging gloves from her fingers rather than giving her attention to those around her. It seems practiced, a way to ignore those that may stop and watch her or those that murmur whispered rumors to their companions. She stops at that table of scrolls and books, a title apparently catching her attention given that she moves one scroll softly to peer at whatever is underneath.
The arrival of another is not enough to cause Ulyana to look. It's only when she turns to retrieve a few more books that she spots potential interference with her duties. She pauses, forehead furrowed and mouth pressed into a bloodless line. There's a moment, two, perhaps two too many, before she intones, "Are you looking for something in particular?" Dutiful, yes, but there's an odd flatness to her tone; a natural affect. Nothing further is said; nothing further probably needs to be. The titles are a strange lot, though, if the goldrider digs deeper, she'll find plenty of old clutching and flight records among the other, seemingly unrelated titles that have been collected. While she awaits an answer, the girl goes to retrieve a few of the books, with a sidelong look spared for whatever one she perceives as having caught the goldrider's eye.
The one that seems to have caught Lilah's eye is morbid, at best. It is a detailed collection of deaths within the Weyr, collected by various Weyrhealers to preserve how certain injuries and illnesses were treated and spread. It's easy to tell that it has caught her eye, since she picks it up rather than letting Ulyana refile it, though she does look briefly through the rest of the records. "Just this," the goldrider answers simply, her gaze lifting to the girl with a quick slip of dark eyes over her in an almost habitual study. It's when she finds that makeshift knot that the redhead reacts--well, not /reacts/, but she certainly stills in quick tension, her gaze narrowing as it settles more fully on Ulyana. Quietly, she follows and it seems as if she does just to add without raising her voice, "There isn't an answer in any of those."
"I see." Ulyana's head tilts at an avian-like angle for just a moment. "I enjoyed that one," she admits, with a shallow tip of her chin toward the book that Lilah takes up. "There are a few others like it over there. I can show you, if you would like." She picks up the armload of records and is just on her way to put them with the rest when the goldrider's reaction registers. The young woman doesn't stop in her duty, nor does she slow; when the words come, they're met with a half-turn and a dead expression. A slow blink follows and her mouth contorts just slightly to one side. "No. There are no answers." The collection of scrolls are held to her chest absently, as if she were loath to put them down randomly for the sake of conversation. Her tone is certain; her voice remains flat. "I suspect that is only because you have not written them."
Lilah does not take advantage of the girl's offer, shaking her head simply in answer as she tucks the book under her arm. The wince, the set of the jaw that comes after? That, at least, doesn't seem to be for Ulyana where there is a moment where the goldrider's attention is turned inward. To the ex-Candidate, she replies with an ease that seems to belie the subject, "When I have the answer, I will be sure to record it. But, if you are looking to me for answers, you may be waiting for a while when even the dragonhealers and older riders--." She lifts a hand in a gesture to finish her sentence, a helpless little wave of fingers.
"I will understand if she was just playing pretend at being a mother." Ulyana keeps her gaze squarely on Lilah all the while, unblinking and inscrutable and strange. There's only a faint shift and slide of her expression at the wince and seizing of the other woman's jaw; confusion more than anything else. It settles out swiftly. She turns to more fully face the goldrider, either fearless or stupid - or plainly uncaring. "No gold has risen and failed to clutch," she intones. "They either rise and clutch or do not rise. If there are records that state otherwise, I would like very much to see them. Until then, the answers are yours and hers alone."
It is clear that Ulyana's suggestion takes Lilah by surprise. At least, it is a new one that she hasn't heard before, it seems. And for all that, her reaction is only the lift of her brows curving upwards and the brief moment where her lips part before they close on whatever her first thought is. Instead, the goldrider takes a moment to watch the ex-Candidate and consider her words, tipping her head slightly. "It's true that I haven't found any records of a gold doing it," she agrees. "Plenty of records of /greens/, but besides working on the theory that my dragon is just a funnily colored green... She wasn't playing, --" a pause as her dark gaze searches Ulyana's for a name. "That much I /do/ know. The changes, the emotions, the flight were not fake." Though, there is a dryness to those last words, as if she already expects not to be believed.
The quest for a name is one that will go without resolution for now, cool gray eyes reflecting everything - and revealing nothing. Ulyana doesn't seem to catch that cue; she's far more interested in the pieces and parts she can fit together into something. The lapse between Lilah's words and her reply is an awkward span of time, one in which she's clearly parsing everything and letting it grind through the gears of her mind. Eventually: "I used to be able to make myself sick when I was younger. If I believed I was sick, I could give myself a sore throat, a cough - fever would come eventually on its own." She finally turns to start putting the scrolls away, but her words continue, flat and steady and free of judgment. "I have heard of women who would display all the signs of pregnancy without being pregnant. Who is to say that cannot happen to dragons, too? Perhaps she convinced herself she was ready. Perhaps she lied to herself."
"Because, dragon minds are not nearly as complicated and complex as ours," Lilah replies with the slight shake of her head in a gesture. "If she had tricked herself, she'd forget in a few days, before she ever rose. She may have displayed some signs of rising and then forgotten, or she might have suddenly rose, but she didn't do either." Her gaze still lingers on Ulyana, and this time, she asks, "What is your name?" before adding, "My dragon has never been mentally unstable, and the induced pregnancy, making yourself sick? Mindhealers have documented that it occurs when the person is under stress or otherwise unstable."
The scrolls are put away and Ulyana pivots neatly on a heel to face Lilah again. "That is disappointing to hear," she replies, with only a slight souring of her expression to further underscore that disappointment. The girl moves to retrieve another couple of books, though the question of her name arrests her only for a moment. "Ulyana of Crom Hold." No reciprocal question is asked; there is no need. A pause follows while she stacks the books, then: "Have you been under stress? Have you ever felt unstable?" Both questions are asked while she seeks to square her gaze against Lilah's own. "Before the flight? After? For no reason at all?"
For a moment, it seems as if Lilah must think she misheard the girl's questions, her gaze widening only slightly before narrowing again on the ex-Candidate. "I am not mentally ill, but /thank you/ for your concern," she says dryly, an edge of annoyance to her words even as she marks the girl's name with a tip of her chin sharply. Those dark eyes skim over Ulyana again, as if trying to determine something, but in the end the goldrider decides to turn on a heel and start in the direction she came.
"That is not one of the questions I asked." Ulyana, however, is plainly accustomed to this sort of response. There's little to determine of her that's not plainly on display; the unmoving, unblinking girl is peculiar in her flatness all around and this is only momentarily cracked when the goldrider turns on a heel. "I see," says she, and she remains as she is until Lilah's long gone and the books in her arms remind her of their presence through their weight.