"I hope I haven't wrongly convinced you..."
Who: Sefton, Bailie, G'thon
What: Bailie presents her persuasive project for Sefton's politics class; G'thon sits in as sort of adjunct proctor.
Classroom
One of several classrooms used by the Weyr, this is the largest and most versatile. The walls adjacent to the bowl are lined with sandtables and high shelves that neatly store a variety of writing implements. Rather than the typical arrangement of student desks and benches lined up to face the front of the room, that furniture has been arranged in a broad semi-circle surrounding a bare work area. A single desk occupies the corner nearest the door exiting into the records room, providing a place for the current instructor to store their materials.
This room may be +watched (+help watch).
Contents:
Bailie
Sefton
Caucus Office (CO) Records Room (RR) Bowl (B)
Mid-evening, and most of the weyr is busy partaking in the evening meal. Sefton has the abandoned classroom to himself. As usual he has forsaken his spot behind the desk in favour of sitting on it, and as he awaits his companions for the evening he is absorbed in a scroll that's come down off one of the shelves, hair falling into his eyes as he leans forward to prop his elbows on his knees.
She enters with her notebook held preciously close, both arms hugging it tightly to her chest. Bailie is dressed appropriately - none of those low-cut tops Sefton likes so much - and her usual curls are forsaken in favour of the more natural hint of a wave her hair has. She's smiling, and then almost grinning as she spies her betrothed; as she crosses the room, she greets with a cheerful, "Good evening, Sef. Or is it 'sir', tonight?"
"Yes. Well. I'm sure she hadn't intended for you to attend this particular obligation." It's G'thon's voice, strained through a smile, the tall bald man paused outside the classroom door to attempt to dissuade an assistant to the headwoman from keeping so close an eye on him that she becomes an inadvertant third assessor of the exercise about to begin. It only takes a few more quiet exchanges between the two for the younger of the parties to agree to just report back to Diya and then finally get some dinner rather than watch over this process; in the end it's just a matter of the Weyrleader assuring her that should he find the topics perturbing, he'd leave. No doubt that earnest promise is in his mind as he finally enters the classroom; no doubt that's what has him chortling a little lowly to himself as he crosses toward the desk and the two who have preceded him there.
Sefton comes politely to his feet as Bailie enters, shooting her an easy grin of greeting. "It's nobody at all tonight, Weyrleader'll be marking you." As G'thon enters, he turns his attention away from Bailie to greet the other man with a nod. "Evening, sir." Whatever rumours circulate the weyr, Sefton's courtesy for High Reaches' leader continues unabated -- for now. "I thought we might let Bailie take the front of the classroom, and we can make ourselves comfortable." A nod indicates the desks his students usually inhabit, with this suggestion.
"Good evening, miss. And, Headmaster." Tit for tat, and G'thon makes a pointed jest of it, too, with a tip of his head and a flash of that mild, one-sided smile. He alters course halfway through the open part of the room in response to Sefton's suggestion and flattens long fingers against the edge of a desk. He has none of the business of note-taking about him, no charcoal or quills or ink or hides, but asks anyway, "Would you like me to take notes on this one?"
"Do I still have to marry you if you're nobody at all?" Bailie whines jokingly, still grinning. She turns to spot G'thon over her shoulder, smil not dimming even the slightest as she greets him cheerily also. "Good evening, G'thon." Next she's setting her notebook down on the big desk, and waiting for her cue to start.
Sefton dismisses the idea of note-taking with a wave of one hand, walking over to pick out a desk in the first row and settle himself behind it, legs stretched out in front of him. "I think we can absorb what we need to by listening, sir." He leans forward, twisting a grin toward the door. "Unless we wanted to call your assistant in to note things down for us?" Easing himself back in his chair, he addreses himself to Bailie. "I'm only here to listen, and join in the conversation. The Weyrleader will be deciding your mark alone, lest cries of outrage ring out across Pern. Begin when you're ready."
Another tip of G'thon's head, this one to acknowledge Bailie's greeting. Then he slips into the seat at the desk he's claimed, and the chortling briefly revisits - a welling up of something sweet and thick and a little bit badly made - at Sefton's remark about the assistant. "She's just taking the weyrwoman's instruction a little seriously, is all," remarks the Weyrleader with terms which can only be intentionally vague, overturning his own hand in a wave wholly unlike Sefton's in gesture, but precisely similar in meaning. He leans back as does the Headmaster, turns sideways a bit so he can cross legs at the knee, and settles long fingers laced in his lap. "Don't believe a word Sefton says. He's here to keep me in line. But please, go ahead."
Hands come together delightedly, and Bailie rubs their palms gently over each other as she contemplates and responds. "I highly doubt you need restraining, but very well," is to G'thon. She backs up a step, resting against the desk behind her, and settling those hands on her skirt. "I chose a subject that I doubt any of us will have any trouble discussing, tonight - that the benefits of marrying politically outweigh the benefits of marrying for love." Smirk. To give the men some time to react, Bailie makes a half-turn and reaches for her notebook.
Sefton, relieved of the pressures of marking, is settling in to enjoy himself. Legs stretched out, hands folded over his middle, an easy grin curving his lips upwards at G'thon's remark. Bailie's words prove one thing at least -- that she has studied her betrothed well enough that she is one of the rare few who know how to draw a reaction. At her announcement, his dark eyes widen just a little, mouth coming slightly open. "The benefits..." He repeats the words at a murmur, then tilts his head back in laughter, raising a hand to brush his hair from his eyes. "Carry on, please do."
G'thon is not so easily given to outright laughter - at least, not these days - but he's also the one intended to mark this performance, so if his reaction is tempered by an effort to seem professionally detached, so be it. Still: the pale brows slide up, the one on the right higher than its twin, and his mouth quirks into a crooked not-smile, lips just barely parted around a word that's been forgotten before voice could be breathed into it. After a split-second just so, he closes his mouth up properly and overturns a hand, fingers sprawling wide before they rejoin the others over his higher leg. "Indeed," he murmurs, perhaps more an aside to the headmaster than a remark to the student.
"So, I suppose..." She trails off, turning back around to settle dark eyes on her very amused husband-to-be for a moment, before switching to her marker. "I suppose I should list the benefits of marrying for love, first, since it's the shorter list." A beat, a breath. "Honestly, I can only think of one benefit for a love-match: that you are already in love with the person you'll marry. Yes?" The tone of her last suggests that should her company have other benefits to list, they should go riiiiight ahead.
Sefton inclines his head, reaching up again to rake his hair back from his eyes. "Quite right, I suppose it must be considered a benefit." He murmurs agreement solemnly, the tone belied by the laughter that's still in his eyes. His glance goes sidelong to G'thon, one brow up -- the Weyrleader, it seems, is to take the lead.
"Most of the other benefits that come to mind easily descend from the love itself, or the experience of it," remarks G'thon, and does not deign to go into details, apparently. Instead he overturns a hand and raises his chin so that his perspective on the situation is aligned somewhat along the grand bridge of his nose. "I believe I know of a few others. But I would be somewhat disappointed if this were a matter of simple numbers. You did mention this would be a matter of which outweighs the other; so, please, inform us of the burden's weight."
"Of course, sir," Bailie agrees with G'thon, nodding slowly. "I do not deny that love must be a wonderful experience. I will get to the weighting, sir, just one moment - can we also define marriage?" She opens her notebook needlessly, glancing down at it. "When one marries, one accepts the conditions in which his or her spouse lives, yes? Married couples cohabit-" The tone here suggests she's read at least that word right off the page, "And for all intents and purposes, share assets?"
Something amuses Sefton in what she says, but for now the Headmaster confines himself to indicating his agreement. "Cohabitation is usually part of the arrangement, I'll agree," he murmurs, allowing his drawl to linger over the words, drawing out the vowels. "It must be wonderful." His lips twitch.
"That sounds like a definition from a harper's hide," muses G'thon, turning that opened hand back over so it can rejoin its partner upon his thigh. He leans back subtly more, again lifting the angle from which he watches the presenter. "To varying degrees based on the couple's situation, I suppose so. Go on."
"Alright." Bailie seems pleased, to have all agreement so far. She smiles, and checks her notebook again. "It is understood that humans need several basic things to survive - food, water, shelter." Her lips quirk. "Greatest weight must be given to these three things, for without them, we are not able to experience life, let alone love. Love does not provide these things; society does, marks do, people do. So then, is it fair to say that finding a spouse who can provide, or help you provide these things is a wiser decision than finding a spouse one loves?"
"Oh, I don't know." Sefton seems ready to weigh in, reaching up to lace his fingers behind his neck as he stretches slowly. "Certainly it is unwise to take on a spouse who can definitively not provide those things. But it might be suggested that buoyed up by the love of another, finding a way to provide for her would not be a task beyond most men." Women, apparently, do not provide. "Love is supposed to inspire, is it not? If it does, then one could have all these things. Food, water, shelter, love."
A low rumble rises, then dies in G'thon's throat, shaped with warmth by a mild smile. "Sefton raises a - valid argument." The Weyrleader's broad mouth widens a bit more, crooking up on the right-hand side. His eyes, fixed on Bailie, have started to take on some of the pale sparkle that neatly counterbalances the shadows that well beneath them; but that mischief is, so far, subdued. "But I'd be most inclined to suggest that neither love nor partnership in lieu of love are appropriate places to seek such provisions, and that regardless of love or its lack, a marriage expected to provide those things would in time foul water, spoil food, and make a home cold."
Bailie takes a deep breath, and closes her notebook again. "Is there a way to tell which men that task -would- be beyond?" Her brows arch carefully as she settles a quick look on Sefton, but mostly her attention is for G'thon. "There are marriages expected to provide those things made everyday, or close enough. Would a father give his daughter to someone he didn't expect to provide those things for her? It is also not possible to marry one person, but love another? Or to marry someone, and grow to love them in turns to come?"
"I should imagine all these things are possible. Although if a man could not feed and shelter my daughter, I cannot imagine what he could do for me that would justify my letting him have her." Sefton's tone is speculative, back still arched in his stretch. "Marrying one person and loving another should be inconvienient at best, I should think. Either a great deal of unhappiness, or some very inconvenient sneaking about. How does this assist, though? Do you say turns of marriage can inspire love to grow, just as love can inspire a new motivation in regard to providing for one's spouse?"
"I suppose it would depend on the father having raised her to be capable of getting them herself," muses G'thon as though the alternative arrangements are only occurring to him because of Bailie's argument. It also could be said that he muses as though these alternative arrangements do not particularly meet with his approval. "I would expect most fathers - and most daughters - look for advancements somewhat more advanced than full bellies and reliable walls." A pause, and he tips his head toward Sefton. "Sneaking, malcontent - or perhaps a bit of a rush. But we stray from Bailie's point." Indeed.
"It's possible, I believe," Bailie replies neatly to Sefton, with a decisive nod. She pushes off the desk, and tucks her notebook under one arm in order to smooth her skirt - soothing nerves, perhaps? "I might be mistaken, but based on my experiences, women aren't generally groomed as providers - carers though, yes. And you're right, some do seek advancements more than those basic things - but if whether or not a man can provide for a woman is a factor in marriage, then the match has some ulterior motivation, and is not a love match. And if all the situations I've mentioned are possible, then we all agree that it is possible to marry politically and still find love?"
Sefton frowns as he considers the question, conceding with a shrug. "I cannot deny the two can go together, I have my Uncle for an example. If you mean to suggest that love can come later to a political marriage, but political advantage can never come to a simple love match, I see a flaw. We have just as many examples of political matches that never blossom into any such thing, but remain working partnerships at best."
"And some examples of love matches that do actually turn into political ones," murmurs G'thon very quietly indeed, and makes no other remark for the moment. The smile, however, is long gone.
"That wasn't my argument - my argument was that the benefits of marrying politically outweigh the benefits of marrying for love. Political matches are made that both parties make worldly gains, and it is possible to also find love when married this way. Love is an emotion, not a commodity, and it will not ensure that basic needs are met, or that any party will have the benefits another match might afford." These words are recited, learned, memorised; Bailie's tone is matter-of-fact, and she seems confident now. "Therefore, if it is possible that a political match may afford the benefits a love match will, and adds others, I believe it is fair to say that my original statement has been proven true." And -how- she sounds like her Harper tutor, here.
Sefton laughs, just as he did at the beginning -- the Headmaster is more free with his amusement than the Weyrleader beside him, drawl returning in force as he replies with a grin. "I allow that your point has a certain validity, Bailie, although no doubt your future husband would be most concerned if we told him he might be signing on for a wife who does not promise to love him. What do you say of the unquantifiable nature of love? The harpers sing for us about it. They say it is something immeasurable, something infinitely more valuable than any other thing." His lips twist. "Or have the harpers simply never known what it is to be without a roof?"
G'thon is, indeed, awfully gloomy there. His posture has not changed, but there's a vast realm between even the mild smiles he's given to now Hirth is gone, and this hopeless regard with which he watches Bailie - and, occasionally from the corners of his eyes, Sefton too. His voice is very quiet, which downplays the thickness in it. "I would contest the basis of your argument, Miss Fort. But the headmaster's question, first - ?"
"You -are- my future husband, and somehow you don't look so concerned when you hear me say it, Sefton?" Bailie's tone is frank now, and her shoulders rise earnestly. She does allow a small smile, affectionate, towards the Headmaster. "Perhaps it's because you know there's no need for concern. As for the harpers - I can't deny that their craft provides for them, and I doubt many of them are without roofs over their heads. But if love is as immeasurable as they say, is it not better to have the basics covered, so that there is room in your life for this great all-consuming, invaluable thing?"
"Perhaps she loves me," Sefton suggests to G'thon in a dry aside. "I may be the luckiest man alive, who knew?" He returns Bailie's smile, shifting comfortably in his seat. "I am afraid my beloved and I are at odds. She prefers the practical approach, and I am an incurable romantic. I say a man does a very serious thing when he binds himself to a woman for life. He should hesitate to do so if she does not set his soul afire, awaken something deep within him. I fear I am condemned to find myself at her mercy, if she does not love as I do." The man makes no attempt to keep a straight face through his speech, drawl lingering over his words with evident amusement.
G'thon grants Sefton a rather grim look. It might be considered disappointed. Then he turns to address Bailie directly, and this, too, seems grim. "Bailie, your argument seems to be based on the idea that a political match may eventually afford the same benefits as a love match. I concede that in some cases it may - but consider the risk involved." He slips the propped leg down off of the other one, boot hitting the floor with a soft dull noise which seems almost to startle him; he pauses, and then goes on. "People grow and change with time. Love supposedly can weather the trials of turns' passing, but in my life I have rarely seen politics seem poised to do so. Therefore, I contest that such a match is a threat to the individuals involved and to the union itself. It is a greater risk than a love match. You may lose love and survive. But if you lose the things which made a political marriage so very wise, you might just not." Another pause, this one for breath. "Given that the nature of your argument seems to support an emphasis on personal advantage - is the risk justified?"
Bailie can't help but grin at Sefton, sharing his amusement. She's opening her mouth to speak when G'thon interjects with his reply, and quiets to listen. The older man's response dulls her grin to a mere curve, but chastened or not by his grim look, Bailie soldiers on. "You say, you may lose love and survive but if you haven't love to begin with, losing other things becomes unbearable to the point that survival isn't possible. But couldn't it rather be, that without love to tie you to the person whose marriage brought you your political advantage, it is easier to find those things again? If you love someone who suddenly cannot provide for you, and you are incapable of providing for yourself, is love enough that you'll both survive? You can marry with or without love, you can survive with or without love, but without food, water and shelter, you can't."
Sefton's lips quirk once more, but he raises his hands to indicate his withdrawal from the argument. "Perhaps we must agree to disagree. I fear we could chase each other in circles all evening at this rate. I suspect the Weyrleader has enough information on which to decide a grade. We'll be distributing them after we've heard from all the students." The words seem to signal a close to the discussion, for he sits forward in his chair as though preparing to rise. Perhaps talk of love and politics strikes a little too close to home.
Perhaps it isn't just Sefton feeling that needle. "I would expect starvation feels similar to the bereft and the joyous," replies G'thon without any trace of the irony that would betray all of his words as so much playing the game, advocating for the demons so that the student has to work to earn her mark from him. But then the Weyrleader at last finds his smile, a tiny trace of it anyway; it twinkles his eyes a little. "I would not like to think you - or anyone else contemplating a political marriage - incapable of providing for him or herself. But, as the headmaster suggests, that will do." He, too, sits forward, reacting perhaps to Sefton's cue.
"I hope I haven't wrongly convinced you that my marriage is purely political, G'thon," Bailie feels the need to say, shifting her notebook under her arm a little. She pauses, and delivers another decisive nod. "Well. Thankyou for your time, and your insight. Perhaps I have some more research to do, now."
"Wrongly?" G'thon says it through a laugh, a short one to be sure, but a laugh just the same. He pushes himself up from the desk and grants Sefton a much warmer look than he had just prior, perhaps an inviting one by the flick of a silvered brow. And then his betrothed, a similar smile. "I assure you, Miss Fort, that this has been merely an enlightening classroom exercise. You remember we spoke regarding your upcoming marriage prior to its announcement. I came to perfectly appropriate conclusions then." He inclines his head, turns and does the same for Sefton's benefit and remarks, "Still, I suspect this topic holds some fertile ground for the two of you to sow. Headmaster, I'll be in my weyr - come by when you're ready to collect her mark." That's it, then; on that, the Weyrleader heads out.
What: Bailie presents her persuasive project for Sefton's politics class; G'thon sits in as sort of adjunct proctor.
Classroom
One of several classrooms used by the Weyr, this is the largest and most versatile. The walls adjacent to the bowl are lined with sandtables and high shelves that neatly store a variety of writing implements. Rather than the typical arrangement of student desks and benches lined up to face the front of the room, that furniture has been arranged in a broad semi-circle surrounding a bare work area. A single desk occupies the corner nearest the door exiting into the records room, providing a place for the current instructor to store their materials.
This room may be +watched (+help watch).
Contents:
Bailie
Sefton
Caucus Office (CO) Records Room (RR) Bowl (B)
Mid-evening, and most of the weyr is busy partaking in the evening meal. Sefton has the abandoned classroom to himself. As usual he has forsaken his spot behind the desk in favour of sitting on it, and as he awaits his companions for the evening he is absorbed in a scroll that's come down off one of the shelves, hair falling into his eyes as he leans forward to prop his elbows on his knees.
She enters with her notebook held preciously close, both arms hugging it tightly to her chest. Bailie is dressed appropriately - none of those low-cut tops Sefton likes so much - and her usual curls are forsaken in favour of the more natural hint of a wave her hair has. She's smiling, and then almost grinning as she spies her betrothed; as she crosses the room, she greets with a cheerful, "Good evening, Sef. Or is it 'sir', tonight?"
"Yes. Well. I'm sure she hadn't intended for you to attend this particular obligation." It's G'thon's voice, strained through a smile, the tall bald man paused outside the classroom door to attempt to dissuade an assistant to the headwoman from keeping so close an eye on him that she becomes an inadvertant third assessor of the exercise about to begin. It only takes a few more quiet exchanges between the two for the younger of the parties to agree to just report back to Diya and then finally get some dinner rather than watch over this process; in the end it's just a matter of the Weyrleader assuring her that should he find the topics perturbing, he'd leave. No doubt that earnest promise is in his mind as he finally enters the classroom; no doubt that's what has him chortling a little lowly to himself as he crosses toward the desk and the two who have preceded him there.
Sefton comes politely to his feet as Bailie enters, shooting her an easy grin of greeting. "It's nobody at all tonight, Weyrleader'll be marking you." As G'thon enters, he turns his attention away from Bailie to greet the other man with a nod. "Evening, sir." Whatever rumours circulate the weyr, Sefton's courtesy for High Reaches' leader continues unabated -- for now. "I thought we might let Bailie take the front of the classroom, and we can make ourselves comfortable." A nod indicates the desks his students usually inhabit, with this suggestion.
"Good evening, miss. And, Headmaster." Tit for tat, and G'thon makes a pointed jest of it, too, with a tip of his head and a flash of that mild, one-sided smile. He alters course halfway through the open part of the room in response to Sefton's suggestion and flattens long fingers against the edge of a desk. He has none of the business of note-taking about him, no charcoal or quills or ink or hides, but asks anyway, "Would you like me to take notes on this one?"
"Do I still have to marry you if you're nobody at all?" Bailie whines jokingly, still grinning. She turns to spot G'thon over her shoulder, smil not dimming even the slightest as she greets him cheerily also. "Good evening, G'thon." Next she's setting her notebook down on the big desk, and waiting for her cue to start.
Sefton dismisses the idea of note-taking with a wave of one hand, walking over to pick out a desk in the first row and settle himself behind it, legs stretched out in front of him. "I think we can absorb what we need to by listening, sir." He leans forward, twisting a grin toward the door. "Unless we wanted to call your assistant in to note things down for us?" Easing himself back in his chair, he addreses himself to Bailie. "I'm only here to listen, and join in the conversation. The Weyrleader will be deciding your mark alone, lest cries of outrage ring out across Pern. Begin when you're ready."
Another tip of G'thon's head, this one to acknowledge Bailie's greeting. Then he slips into the seat at the desk he's claimed, and the chortling briefly revisits - a welling up of something sweet and thick and a little bit badly made - at Sefton's remark about the assistant. "She's just taking the weyrwoman's instruction a little seriously, is all," remarks the Weyrleader with terms which can only be intentionally vague, overturning his own hand in a wave wholly unlike Sefton's in gesture, but precisely similar in meaning. He leans back as does the Headmaster, turns sideways a bit so he can cross legs at the knee, and settles long fingers laced in his lap. "Don't believe a word Sefton says. He's here to keep me in line. But please, go ahead."
Hands come together delightedly, and Bailie rubs their palms gently over each other as she contemplates and responds. "I highly doubt you need restraining, but very well," is to G'thon. She backs up a step, resting against the desk behind her, and settling those hands on her skirt. "I chose a subject that I doubt any of us will have any trouble discussing, tonight - that the benefits of marrying politically outweigh the benefits of marrying for love." Smirk. To give the men some time to react, Bailie makes a half-turn and reaches for her notebook.
Sefton, relieved of the pressures of marking, is settling in to enjoy himself. Legs stretched out, hands folded over his middle, an easy grin curving his lips upwards at G'thon's remark. Bailie's words prove one thing at least -- that she has studied her betrothed well enough that she is one of the rare few who know how to draw a reaction. At her announcement, his dark eyes widen just a little, mouth coming slightly open. "The benefits..." He repeats the words at a murmur, then tilts his head back in laughter, raising a hand to brush his hair from his eyes. "Carry on, please do."
G'thon is not so easily given to outright laughter - at least, not these days - but he's also the one intended to mark this performance, so if his reaction is tempered by an effort to seem professionally detached, so be it. Still: the pale brows slide up, the one on the right higher than its twin, and his mouth quirks into a crooked not-smile, lips just barely parted around a word that's been forgotten before voice could be breathed into it. After a split-second just so, he closes his mouth up properly and overturns a hand, fingers sprawling wide before they rejoin the others over his higher leg. "Indeed," he murmurs, perhaps more an aside to the headmaster than a remark to the student.
"So, I suppose..." She trails off, turning back around to settle dark eyes on her very amused husband-to-be for a moment, before switching to her marker. "I suppose I should list the benefits of marrying for love, first, since it's the shorter list." A beat, a breath. "Honestly, I can only think of one benefit for a love-match: that you are already in love with the person you'll marry. Yes?" The tone of her last suggests that should her company have other benefits to list, they should go riiiiight ahead.
Sefton inclines his head, reaching up again to rake his hair back from his eyes. "Quite right, I suppose it must be considered a benefit." He murmurs agreement solemnly, the tone belied by the laughter that's still in his eyes. His glance goes sidelong to G'thon, one brow up -- the Weyrleader, it seems, is to take the lead.
"Most of the other benefits that come to mind easily descend from the love itself, or the experience of it," remarks G'thon, and does not deign to go into details, apparently. Instead he overturns a hand and raises his chin so that his perspective on the situation is aligned somewhat along the grand bridge of his nose. "I believe I know of a few others. But I would be somewhat disappointed if this were a matter of simple numbers. You did mention this would be a matter of which outweighs the other; so, please, inform us of the burden's weight."
"Of course, sir," Bailie agrees with G'thon, nodding slowly. "I do not deny that love must be a wonderful experience. I will get to the weighting, sir, just one moment - can we also define marriage?" She opens her notebook needlessly, glancing down at it. "When one marries, one accepts the conditions in which his or her spouse lives, yes? Married couples cohabit-" The tone here suggests she's read at least that word right off the page, "And for all intents and purposes, share assets?"
Something amuses Sefton in what she says, but for now the Headmaster confines himself to indicating his agreement. "Cohabitation is usually part of the arrangement, I'll agree," he murmurs, allowing his drawl to linger over the words, drawing out the vowels. "It must be wonderful." His lips twitch.
"That sounds like a definition from a harper's hide," muses G'thon, turning that opened hand back over so it can rejoin its partner upon his thigh. He leans back subtly more, again lifting the angle from which he watches the presenter. "To varying degrees based on the couple's situation, I suppose so. Go on."
"Alright." Bailie seems pleased, to have all agreement so far. She smiles, and checks her notebook again. "It is understood that humans need several basic things to survive - food, water, shelter." Her lips quirk. "Greatest weight must be given to these three things, for without them, we are not able to experience life, let alone love. Love does not provide these things; society does, marks do, people do. So then, is it fair to say that finding a spouse who can provide, or help you provide these things is a wiser decision than finding a spouse one loves?"
"Oh, I don't know." Sefton seems ready to weigh in, reaching up to lace his fingers behind his neck as he stretches slowly. "Certainly it is unwise to take on a spouse who can definitively not provide those things. But it might be suggested that buoyed up by the love of another, finding a way to provide for her would not be a task beyond most men." Women, apparently, do not provide. "Love is supposed to inspire, is it not? If it does, then one could have all these things. Food, water, shelter, love."
A low rumble rises, then dies in G'thon's throat, shaped with warmth by a mild smile. "Sefton raises a - valid argument." The Weyrleader's broad mouth widens a bit more, crooking up on the right-hand side. His eyes, fixed on Bailie, have started to take on some of the pale sparkle that neatly counterbalances the shadows that well beneath them; but that mischief is, so far, subdued. "But I'd be most inclined to suggest that neither love nor partnership in lieu of love are appropriate places to seek such provisions, and that regardless of love or its lack, a marriage expected to provide those things would in time foul water, spoil food, and make a home cold."
Bailie takes a deep breath, and closes her notebook again. "Is there a way to tell which men that task -would- be beyond?" Her brows arch carefully as she settles a quick look on Sefton, but mostly her attention is for G'thon. "There are marriages expected to provide those things made everyday, or close enough. Would a father give his daughter to someone he didn't expect to provide those things for her? It is also not possible to marry one person, but love another? Or to marry someone, and grow to love them in turns to come?"
"I should imagine all these things are possible. Although if a man could not feed and shelter my daughter, I cannot imagine what he could do for me that would justify my letting him have her." Sefton's tone is speculative, back still arched in his stretch. "Marrying one person and loving another should be inconvienient at best, I should think. Either a great deal of unhappiness, or some very inconvenient sneaking about. How does this assist, though? Do you say turns of marriage can inspire love to grow, just as love can inspire a new motivation in regard to providing for one's spouse?"
"I suppose it would depend on the father having raised her to be capable of getting them herself," muses G'thon as though the alternative arrangements are only occurring to him because of Bailie's argument. It also could be said that he muses as though these alternative arrangements do not particularly meet with his approval. "I would expect most fathers - and most daughters - look for advancements somewhat more advanced than full bellies and reliable walls." A pause, and he tips his head toward Sefton. "Sneaking, malcontent - or perhaps a bit of a rush. But we stray from Bailie's point." Indeed.
"It's possible, I believe," Bailie replies neatly to Sefton, with a decisive nod. She pushes off the desk, and tucks her notebook under one arm in order to smooth her skirt - soothing nerves, perhaps? "I might be mistaken, but based on my experiences, women aren't generally groomed as providers - carers though, yes. And you're right, some do seek advancements more than those basic things - but if whether or not a man can provide for a woman is a factor in marriage, then the match has some ulterior motivation, and is not a love match. And if all the situations I've mentioned are possible, then we all agree that it is possible to marry politically and still find love?"
Sefton frowns as he considers the question, conceding with a shrug. "I cannot deny the two can go together, I have my Uncle for an example. If you mean to suggest that love can come later to a political marriage, but political advantage can never come to a simple love match, I see a flaw. We have just as many examples of political matches that never blossom into any such thing, but remain working partnerships at best."
"And some examples of love matches that do actually turn into political ones," murmurs G'thon very quietly indeed, and makes no other remark for the moment. The smile, however, is long gone.
"That wasn't my argument - my argument was that the benefits of marrying politically outweigh the benefits of marrying for love. Political matches are made that both parties make worldly gains, and it is possible to also find love when married this way. Love is an emotion, not a commodity, and it will not ensure that basic needs are met, or that any party will have the benefits another match might afford." These words are recited, learned, memorised; Bailie's tone is matter-of-fact, and she seems confident now. "Therefore, if it is possible that a political match may afford the benefits a love match will, and adds others, I believe it is fair to say that my original statement has been proven true." And -how- she sounds like her Harper tutor, here.
Sefton laughs, just as he did at the beginning -- the Headmaster is more free with his amusement than the Weyrleader beside him, drawl returning in force as he replies with a grin. "I allow that your point has a certain validity, Bailie, although no doubt your future husband would be most concerned if we told him he might be signing on for a wife who does not promise to love him. What do you say of the unquantifiable nature of love? The harpers sing for us about it. They say it is something immeasurable, something infinitely more valuable than any other thing." His lips twist. "Or have the harpers simply never known what it is to be without a roof?"
G'thon is, indeed, awfully gloomy there. His posture has not changed, but there's a vast realm between even the mild smiles he's given to now Hirth is gone, and this hopeless regard with which he watches Bailie - and, occasionally from the corners of his eyes, Sefton too. His voice is very quiet, which downplays the thickness in it. "I would contest the basis of your argument, Miss Fort. But the headmaster's question, first - ?"
"You -are- my future husband, and somehow you don't look so concerned when you hear me say it, Sefton?" Bailie's tone is frank now, and her shoulders rise earnestly. She does allow a small smile, affectionate, towards the Headmaster. "Perhaps it's because you know there's no need for concern. As for the harpers - I can't deny that their craft provides for them, and I doubt many of them are without roofs over their heads. But if love is as immeasurable as they say, is it not better to have the basics covered, so that there is room in your life for this great all-consuming, invaluable thing?"
"Perhaps she loves me," Sefton suggests to G'thon in a dry aside. "I may be the luckiest man alive, who knew?" He returns Bailie's smile, shifting comfortably in his seat. "I am afraid my beloved and I are at odds. She prefers the practical approach, and I am an incurable romantic. I say a man does a very serious thing when he binds himself to a woman for life. He should hesitate to do so if she does not set his soul afire, awaken something deep within him. I fear I am condemned to find myself at her mercy, if she does not love as I do." The man makes no attempt to keep a straight face through his speech, drawl lingering over his words with evident amusement.
G'thon grants Sefton a rather grim look. It might be considered disappointed. Then he turns to address Bailie directly, and this, too, seems grim. "Bailie, your argument seems to be based on the idea that a political match may eventually afford the same benefits as a love match. I concede that in some cases it may - but consider the risk involved." He slips the propped leg down off of the other one, boot hitting the floor with a soft dull noise which seems almost to startle him; he pauses, and then goes on. "People grow and change with time. Love supposedly can weather the trials of turns' passing, but in my life I have rarely seen politics seem poised to do so. Therefore, I contest that such a match is a threat to the individuals involved and to the union itself. It is a greater risk than a love match. You may lose love and survive. But if you lose the things which made a political marriage so very wise, you might just not." Another pause, this one for breath. "Given that the nature of your argument seems to support an emphasis on personal advantage - is the risk justified?"
Bailie can't help but grin at Sefton, sharing his amusement. She's opening her mouth to speak when G'thon interjects with his reply, and quiets to listen. The older man's response dulls her grin to a mere curve, but chastened or not by his grim look, Bailie soldiers on. "You say, you may lose love and survive but if you haven't love to begin with, losing other things becomes unbearable to the point that survival isn't possible. But couldn't it rather be, that without love to tie you to the person whose marriage brought you your political advantage, it is easier to find those things again? If you love someone who suddenly cannot provide for you, and you are incapable of providing for yourself, is love enough that you'll both survive? You can marry with or without love, you can survive with or without love, but without food, water and shelter, you can't."
Sefton's lips quirk once more, but he raises his hands to indicate his withdrawal from the argument. "Perhaps we must agree to disagree. I fear we could chase each other in circles all evening at this rate. I suspect the Weyrleader has enough information on which to decide a grade. We'll be distributing them after we've heard from all the students." The words seem to signal a close to the discussion, for he sits forward in his chair as though preparing to rise. Perhaps talk of love and politics strikes a little too close to home.
Perhaps it isn't just Sefton feeling that needle. "I would expect starvation feels similar to the bereft and the joyous," replies G'thon without any trace of the irony that would betray all of his words as so much playing the game, advocating for the demons so that the student has to work to earn her mark from him. But then the Weyrleader at last finds his smile, a tiny trace of it anyway; it twinkles his eyes a little. "I would not like to think you - or anyone else contemplating a political marriage - incapable of providing for him or herself. But, as the headmaster suggests, that will do." He, too, sits forward, reacting perhaps to Sefton's cue.
"I hope I haven't wrongly convinced you that my marriage is purely political, G'thon," Bailie feels the need to say, shifting her notebook under her arm a little. She pauses, and delivers another decisive nod. "Well. Thankyou for your time, and your insight. Perhaps I have some more research to do, now."
"Wrongly?" G'thon says it through a laugh, a short one to be sure, but a laugh just the same. He pushes himself up from the desk and grants Sefton a much warmer look than he had just prior, perhaps an inviting one by the flick of a silvered brow. And then his betrothed, a similar smile. "I assure you, Miss Fort, that this has been merely an enlightening classroom exercise. You remember we spoke regarding your upcoming marriage prior to its announcement. I came to perfectly appropriate conclusions then." He inclines his head, turns and does the same for Sefton's benefit and remarks, "Still, I suspect this topic holds some fertile ground for the two of you to sow. Headmaster, I'll be in my weyr - come by when you're ready to collect her mark." That's it, then; on that, the Weyrleader heads out.