Tea time for Zues.
WHO: Roa, Tavaly
WHERE: Tav's Workshop/Weyr
WHEN: Evening, Day 11, month 6, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
WHAT: My leatherwork brings all the Golderiders to the Weyr. And they're like..It's better in there. Damn right, it's better in there. IT's MY WEYR. But I guess I'll share.
Other: Haha, Roa's gonna be FAT.
Fire. It's hot, tonight. The dreary spring nights have left the upper weyrs a little cold. Tav's is no exception. However, the level of heat has
more to do with her current task than her current comfort. Immath sits on the ledge outside, savoring the cool night air. Really, it's only mid-evening. A few ticks past dinner time. A time for winding down, for most. Not this greenrider, though. When the Weyr sleeps, and there is no more to distract, she provides her own distractions. The green outside is drowsy, chin laid over her forelimbs. The sound of hammer, knife, and punch in the weyr are all her lullabies. She, at least, is used to this, by now.
There will be another distraction offered to Tavaly and her green thise vening, and it is announced in heavy wingbeats as a queen dragon swoops down and hovers above the ledge. The metal touch extended towards the smaller dragon is weighted like a thick and woolly banket and it is familiar, or, it was once. Tialith bids permission to land, her little rider perched atop her.
The green raises her head, canting it to the side and then bowing it. Permission most certainly granted. She shifts, leaving as much room as possible for the queen to land and deposit her passenger. Within the weyr, lit by the wild orange glow of fires hard-pressed to keep burning, the sound of a hammer stops. Toward the curtain the occupant stalks. And waits, for now.
Land she does then, crouching low and lingering long enough that Roa can scramble down and hit the stone with a soft thud. Then, after a small rumble to Immath, the gold is flying back to her own ledge until she's needed. The little weyrwoman offers the green a smile and takes a moment to set her clothes to rights and smooth her hair a bit. And then she walks to the curtain and tugs it open enough to peep inside. "Well, hey you," she says with a little smile. "Heard you'd come home."
Immath lifts her chin to the gold, offering her own tired, but friendly, warble. Good t'seeya, n'all that. When the curtain is pulled aside, Roa will find a figure bowing at the waist. A messy braid is lain over her shoulder, the crown of her head receiving the words. Out of place, of course, are the left arm and leg. The right of both are bare, however the left limbs are both cased in leather. A long glove up to the elbow, fingers left free. The leg wears a boot up to the knee with the actual foot portion missing. Both are held on by a series of ties. They're hiding things, of course. "Welcome, lady." She says. Respectful. Calm. Almost dignified. She rises from the bow, her cheeks smudged with possible dirt, but more likely the ash of burnt leather. "Figured my vacation in Ista was more'n over." She says, offering a lopsided smile.
"Seems so. I'm not...you don't have to...Roa," the weyrwoman says with a shake of her head. "I'm just Roa, and I'd love some tea." She slips inside more fully, letting the curtain fall shut behind her. Blue eyes take in the leather worn strangely and the smudges and the heat of the fire. "Tell me about Ista. Or about anything. Or ask me, if you have questions." Her smile is almost shy. "You were missed."
"I know I don't have to. Call it a moment of pride to simply be able to." Tav explains, her own grin creeping all the way across now. It's a full smile, then. Folding parts of her cheeks. "Tea it is, then! Please, make yourself comfortable." She grabs a fur throw and drapes it over one of
the armchairs. Cozy. She plucks the kettle from the top of the hearth, setting it on a hook just above the angry flame. "Ista.. sucked." Tav
says without hesitation. "Too hot. Too dry. Too... not here." Is her description of Ista. As for questions. "Reckon I've got more questions than you could shake a stick at, but mostly I'm still just damn glad to be back." She laughs, rummaging in a box, also atop the hearth. Tea
leaves. She prepares a pot, finding a cup and cleaning it out with a clean cloth produced from a pocket on her breeks. Roa's last statement gives her pause, and she gains an expression that's almost.. sheepish, looking down at the cup. "It's good." She says. "I was almost afraid of coming back, for a moment. Wasn't sure if the 'Reaches would want me back. Despite the circumstances, I feared y'all would think I abandoned the place." She admits, looking over to the woman. She's reserved tonight. A by-product of being alone with only her thoughts and her work.
The cozy armchair is chosen and Roa heads over to flop into it. She turns her head o watch Tavaly prepare the tea and set the kettle over the fire, blinking slowly as she listens. "I'd like to think we're a bit more clever than all of that," she notes with a small chuckle. "Have you
seen Jens-...R'en yet? That one took us a bit by surprise."
A laugh, then. Short. "Oh, don't think I didn't know deep down. Irrational thought always comes just before change." She says in regards to her own foolishness. And then another smile. This one containing /pride/. "Certainly have. R'vain told me when he came to Ista. Immath didn't want to wait. Reached out to Sehkrath soon as we got back. Saw Jen and the liddle bronze not too long after. R'en. That's what surprised me, really. Good name. Good meaning." She nods, once more distracted. This time by the hiss of the kettle, which is plucked from its place. No need for a potholder, the leather glove works just fine. She pours the hot, steaming water into the pot and plants a top on it. She sits on the footrest across from the woman, hands loosely clasped between her knees, parted so she can rest her elbows on each. "What do /you/ think about it?" She wants to know.
Leaning back into her chair again, Roa smiles faintly and shakes her head. "I think that it hit him pretty hard at first, but he's better now. I think it's a lot to adjust to and a lot he's being made to give up without anyone asking him if he minded. And, well, you know what he's like when you take his choices away." The weyrwoman rolls her eyes. "But I think he's going to do well, we need him, and now he's got a chance to touch so many more lives than he ever did before. That's not nothing. I hope he sees it, in time."
She's nodding. Waiting for the pot to steep. When it's been given enough time, by her measure, she pours a single cup and offers it, turning the handle toward the Weyrwoman. "You're right, on all counts, of course. Talked t'him about that sorta thing." She smirks, then. Feeling terribly clever. "Told him he got to be a Captain in the sky, now. Hopin' that maybe translated it a bit." She nods. "He'll do well. Better than well. He'll be the best fuckin' - beg pardon - bronzerider in this Weyr." She nods. "What's it gonna take to get 'im there?"
"Believe me, with R'vain in the office and Ashwin in the weyr, I've heard worse." Roa's smile is a little sheepish as she accepts the tea. "I've -said- worse," she admits meekly. "It'll take time, I think. It'll take D'ven knowing better than to pretend he's a fifteen-turn-old. He's inching there. I mentioned maybe Caucus, after he graduates, and he said he would. If that's not huge...he'll find his way. He always does." Sip.
Another laugh, this one ironic. "Seems D'ven's hearin' it from all sides, then. If he hasn't caught on by now, he's gonna just hafta learn the
hard way." Tav says, fingers on her left hand flexing absently. "Always does." Tav repeats. "He's good at it. Had t'do it a lot after he left home. I guess that's what this all must feel like for him. Leavin' home. All over again." She nods. "Said it before. 'll say it again. He'll come out on top. Always does." She glances away from the fire, toward the Weyrwoman again. "Gonna help him?" She asks, suddenly.
There is a faint smile of all of that and a small nod in regards to D'ven. "I think he's getting the message. He wants to do right by them, even
if what's right doesn't quite line up with his program all the time." Roa blows on the hot tea and takes another small sip. One brow hefts upwards. "You even have to ask?"
"I like 'im. Good man. Looked him in the eye when I spoke to him." She recalls. "He's a good choice. And he'll do as right as he can, if Jen'll
just.. let 'im. Think he's man enough to do it, too." Roa's question is met with another lopsided grin. "Don't suppose I do. Figured I just would." She finally lifts the end of her braid, stuffing it it back over her shoulder so it dangles down her back. "What about you. How you holdin' up? Weyrwoman, and all."
"I hope he'll let him. I think he will. He just won't like it very much." Roa's smile is tiny and so is the shake of her head. "I'm holding up all right. It's a bit different than I imagined, but I can't say that's a bad thing. Compared to the last pair of leaders, I'd say we're doing fairly well. Although, compared tot he last pair of leaders, that isn't saying overmuch." Her nose wrinkles. "You know, I can't even stand in the lunchline anymore."
"Compared to our last Leaders, Roa, you and R'vain are automatically placed upon a pedestal simply because you're /Reaches/. What you do beyond that is what endears you to the Weyr." And then Tav gets a little preachy. "Best thing for it, the lunchline bit, is to let it happen. Don' make 'em feel silly about doin' what's right by 'em. They want you to eat first, darnit, you go on up, say yer thank you's and let them watch ya pass 'em. Let 'em think they done you a good deed." She explains, then. Hands clasped, still hanging off of her knees. "Sometimes them small gestures are all a person's got they think is worth it to show to those they appreciate."
"I...well, I suppose. I never really thought of it as something people did to send a message to me. I thought, you know, they did it because they had all been told leadership shouldn't have to wait in line, and that just because Tialith flew, I was suddenly entitled to something I wasn't, the day before." The weyrwoman shakes her head. "I don't really want that. Rather just...be me. Help. Talk to the halls and holds when it's needed. But, it's not the way it works. Although...just now...there is a lot of talking to halls and holds." Roa rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "Have you stopped by to see Dara yet?"
"That's not how it's done here." Tav says with a grin. "We sass leadership we don' like an' treat the ones we do like a little better'n we treat our own parents, sometimes. S'far as most folk are concerned, you earn your respect. And judgin' by your treatment, I'd say you earned it rather well." Not so preachy, but still. "Be yourself, then. Hell, be whatever you want. You decide what kind of Weyrwoman you want to be remembered as." Her brows furrow. "Why all the talk?" She questions, then arches a brow. "Only in sleep. I go in and check on 'em every now and then. Heard she got caught by a blue. Good on 'er. Girl'll make a fine, fiesty rider."
"I think she will, if her skin can toughen a bit and she can get over her fears," Roa says with a small nod. "But. She would also be why all the talks. A woman on blue's never been done and most folks don't much want to see it done. So. Talking. Writing. Reassuring and the like." The weyrwoman peers down into her tea and then takes a sip. "People are idiots."
"They ain' got no choice. Soon as they're old enough to fly, I'll be gettin' her on my list. Doin' some extra credit with those I see as can
handle it. They're helpin' me with leather repair in the meantime; Immath's teachin' the dragons how to play." Tav says, nodding her head. She's got the papers, even, to say D'ven's completely cool with the idea. In a box. Somewhere. "I intend t'fully support her as a rider. She'll
need it. For a little while. 'Til she finds her wings." Roa's comment coaxes one of the older grins-o-mischief out of the locker in the back of
Tav's expressions. "People certainly are. We just have to educate them up a bit. Maybe a little etiquette'd do 'em some good, too." Look who's talking. x.x
"A little bit of sanity would do them good," Roa snorts. "It'll quiet down after a bit, at least until they graduate and she's in a wing. Then I
expect we'll hear fussing again. Wiat." She blinks, canting her ehad to the side, "Immath's teaching weyrling dragons how to fly? And you've got them helping with straps...and D'ven's all right with all of that?"
"Not just straps. Have 'em helpin' me with a few side projects. I aim t'have a goodly amount o' riding gear t'put back into the stores. They're
helpin' me with new patterns, and the like. I can only waste so much imagination on dead animal skins." She smirks. "While we work, Immath is teaching the greens and blues she things are up to it. Teachin' them the games. Three days a week are leather days, two days are Game days. They need agility. They can only learn so much of it from a bronzerider. No offense t'him, or anythin'. I just don't want to see a smaller able dragon go to seed." And here she smiles. "I asked him first. Told him what I'd be doin', he said fine, even signed a hide over to me sayin' I had his permission. I invited him over t'join, if he thinks he'd like."
As she listens, Roa's brows just creep higher and higher. "Have to say," the weyrwoman ntes with a soft chuckle, "I'm impressed. It's a good idea and, truthfully, one I never thought he'd go for. To allow a rider outside of his program to teach...this is good. He's thinking." A small nod. "So." Sip. "You said you had questions?"
"He read most of R'vain's notes. Saw mention that I was helping with that particular bunch, anyway. Told me he wants only the best for 'em, and I, personally, take this as another step toward that goal. They'll need it. They're not terrible, but they're bored and I think this might spice it up. Besides, the games happen during their free period, so I'm not interfering with the rest of their lessons. Might make a good leatherworker out of one or two of 'em, even. This place is gonna be a disaster area of herdbeast hide, for a while." She smiles. It's no small feat to get Roa's eyebrows to go up up UP. "Questions." She repeats the word, then bobs her head a couple times. "Thought I did." They seem to have disappeared. Then her face goes a little. Blank. Right. She laughs. "How's uh.. life with R'vain?" Girly talk time. Bwah.
"Which weyrlings did you pick?" Roa asks and then blinks at the final question. "He's, um...it's...he's trying. Hard. Hasn't touched a drink since he became weyrleader so far as I can tell. He's working on wing patterns that...they're good. And more than that, they demand that each rider thinks on their own. Remember all that potential we used to complain about him having and not using?" She smiles very faintly. "He's using it now. I could do without the parade of girls he slinks after. But..." the weyrwoman sighs and shakes her head. "Anyhow, it doesn't interfere with the work."
"Five. To start. J'sek and K'rom are among them. Shortly after the hatching, J'sek expressed interest in learning from T'zen. I.. suppose I'm a close second. Now that he's ready. Deserves /some/ sort of extra teaching." She explains, then nods her head. "Toldja he was a good man. If not in morals, then at least for ideas. Man's full of them. He told me, when he came to Ista, that he had a few. Seems he's already picked a wing for me to be stuffed into. Not back into 2C." She chews her inner lip. "Any way you could give me advance warning on what I'm in fore once Immath and I are back in the great blue?"
The weyrwoman taptaptaps a finger against her mug. "J'sek. Areteth's. I hear he's doing well. I saw to his unjuries after he hatched. Shelling bloody egg-smashing...do you know he--" but Roa stops abruptly and shakes her head. "I till can't believe anyone could do such a thing." She sighs softly. "They sound like good picks. But, the big blue? You mean his new formations or something else?"
"The formations, actually. And I remember. Areteth, apparently, does not have any problems once he's off the ground. And that, in a dragon, is absolutely fine." Tav says, leaning back until the balance of her legs before her allows her to lean so, arms crossing over her chest. "Yea. Did'ee discuss the formations with you, at all?"
"We have been over them, but they're his. I sort of feel...I mean if he didn't say, maybe there's a reason. Maybe he wants to see how riders will do without without getting the sitdown explanation, you know? See how it willa ctually work if he hands them off to a wingleader and they
praactice them with their wing. But," Roa smiles faintly, "they're good. You'll like them. From what I've seen, I think you'll like them a lot."
"Judging by the amount of smirking R'vain did when he mentioned them to me, I've got no choice /but/ to like them a lot. It's like a Turnday
present, I think. I'll see them when it's time." She nods. May it be said, a 'younger' Tavaly would have protested further, even got a little violent. This is change. For the better. "It'll be good. To stretch out the ol' wings again. Ista was fine, but between their too-traditional formations and our down time, we're feelin' a little rusty. Thinkin' this extra-credit Weyrling project'll help work out some of the kinks." She says, bobbing her head. And suddenly finds herself at a loss for words. This whole talking thing has become foreign. "How's tea?"
"It's good," The tea, that is. "Nobody ever told me...how did the scores happen?" Roa peeps up over her mugs, brows lifted a little bit.
"Accident. The first time. Stubbornness the second. Wasn't until the third time that we finally dropped out of the 'fall." Tav says. "First time,
got my leg. Immath took us between, brushed it off. Didn't feel much after the cold seeped in. Kept goin' a while. 'Nother patch fell through
the cracks. Almost landed on Immath's neck." The left hand tightens its fingers. "Had to knock it out of the way. Between again. Came out and Immath's cheek caught a bit. Finally told 'er to take us on down. It was a sloppy 'fall." Tav says glumly. "Shouldn'a been like that. There's plenty to say about tradition, 'cept when it's so horribly uncreative. Need to fight Thread like Thread ought to be fought. New, each time. May behave the same. Don' always 'fall the same."
Roa winces one, two, three times. "You're the only rider I know who'd...Faranth, Tavaly. -Three- times in -one- fall? Shells." The weyrwoman tsks softly, but then she adds, "You're not the only one who feels that way about 'fall and formations. Things are changing for the better I think. Much as some would argue change is never for the better."
She laughs, at first. The almost-chiding from Roa. "Didn't have much choice." She says quietly, sobering slightly. "It was a heavy 'fall. I'd been down to rest once already. We were back up, helpin' to resupply the bronzes and browns, once we caught our wind, back. Couldn't leave 'em up there with nuthin' but open noses to fight Thread with." She chews the inside of her lip. On formations, "Oh, I know it. Damn tired of seein' tradition kill off younger riders. I think D'ven'll want to know the formations, too. That way, once they've been tested - been proven - he can update the training. Get the Weyrlings learning early." She takes her lower lip between her teeth and nods her head a couple times. "I agree. Changin' for the good. And only old people complain about change never being better. Lucky for us we got Weyrleaders with young heads full of ideas and the guts to make 'em happen. Good on ya." And then a small smile. "What's feel like leadin' the Queens wing, eh?"
"I..." Roa leans back with a skeptical look on her features, "I'm not sure D'ven will want to update the wings. He's rather...fond of tradition. He likes things as they were. Or has he imagined they were, which sometimes I wonder about. Not sure what he recalls and how the world truly was are the same thing. He's very caught up in things being just so and just the way they were. So. We'll see. He also wants his weyrlings to survive, so...well. We'll just see," the weyrwoman finds herself repeating. "Leading the queen's wing was interesting. In some ways, it's a lot like just flying in it. There's only the three of us and sometimes four if Vasyath is up to it. We all know the other dragons fairly well, at least in the context of flying thread. It's more individualized, I think, than the bigger wings. I'm, um, taking a bit of a break. From flying in it, though."
Nodding, Tav accepts this piece of information. The thing with D'ven, that is. "Yea. We'll see. There's time." She assesses, then fixes Roa with a stare like, 'Are you bonkers?' "A break?" She questions. "What, bored already? Shoot, R'vain oughta draw up some interesting formations for you all, too, then."
"I, uhm, no. Not bored. I'd like to, I just can't right now. I'm, that is..." Roa clears her throat and finds momentary refuge into another small sip of tea. Then, quick and quiet, " 'm pregnant."
"Oh!" Tav says, zero air time spared. No long gawky pause. "Happens." She follows up with, doing her pursed-lips, nodding thing. "No wonder, considering the flight and all." And R'vain possibly being the most virile man on the face of Pern. Gracious. "Got a name picked out either way?"
Blink. "What?" Roa's head jerks up and her jaw drops. "No, not...it's not." Right. Tea. The weyrwoman stares down at her mug and clears her throat. "It wasn't the flight. It's not R'vain. I mean it's...Ashwin and I are, uhm..." Tea! "Anyhow, it's his. Ours." Yeah.
Okay, now the gawky confused look. "Oh." Again. And then a laugh. "Ashwin, huh?" She says, smiling. Lopsided. "He's a good sort. For the longest time I thought it'd be Jen that you chose. Y'all spending so much time together, and all. A good choice, though. Ashwin." She closes her eyes. "Make a cute couple." She opens one eye, smirking. "'M happy for ya. Sounds like everything's all.. well, keen."
"Yeh," Roa murmurs with a small nod. "For a time, I think that a number of folk thought that. Went a different way, though, and I think it went the way it was supposed to. Jen and I, think we're best off as we are. And Ash...yeh. He's a good sort." There is no more tea. Only an empty mug to stare down into. "This last bit wasn't exactly expected, but...it is. Can't regret it, really, for all that it's miserable timing."
"Better now when you don't expect it than later when you want it and get frustrated." Tav offers. For whatever reason, can't be sure. Something her mother mentioned, once, she remembers. "Babe'll have good care, too. Heck, I'll even babysit, if y'need a breather." The greenrider offers, smiling slightly. "More tea?" She questions, plucking the pot from atop the hearth and holding it, ready.
The mug is stared down into some more. "Oh. No, thank you. I might take you up on that offer sometime, though." Roa smiles faintly and shakes her head. "We'll have to figure all that out. He's with the guard during the day, and I'm doing Faanth knows what. Someone will have to watch her when we can't. I don't know. There's time, yet. Only it's getting late and I've an early morning. I should probably...thank you for the tea, Tavaly."
"Ma keeps me well supplied. You come hide here anytime you need tea and whatever." She offers, standing and offering the woman a hand. To help her up, or simply just to help. "Get some rest. T'morrow's another day, and who knows what awful things lurk in piles of papers, mm?" Immath stalks into the weyr, catching the last conversational bits. Her cheek still bears the black marks of threadscore, but it seems well tended.
"Just so," the weyrwoman agrees, slipping her hand into the greenrider's and pushing up into a stand. "Feel free to drop by yourself, you ever feel the inclination. Thank you, again. It's good to see you home." Immath gets another look and then wingbeats fill the air as Tialith swoops in to land and reclaim her rider.
WHERE: Tav's Workshop/Weyr
WHEN: Evening, Day 11, month 6, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
WHAT: My leatherwork brings all the Golderiders to the Weyr. And they're like..It's better in there. Damn right, it's better in there. IT's MY WEYR. But I guess I'll share.
Other: Haha, Roa's gonna be FAT.
Fire. It's hot, tonight. The dreary spring nights have left the upper weyrs a little cold. Tav's is no exception. However, the level of heat has
more to do with her current task than her current comfort. Immath sits on the ledge outside, savoring the cool night air. Really, it's only mid-evening. A few ticks past dinner time. A time for winding down, for most. Not this greenrider, though. When the Weyr sleeps, and there is no more to distract, she provides her own distractions. The green outside is drowsy, chin laid over her forelimbs. The sound of hammer, knife, and punch in the weyr are all her lullabies. She, at least, is used to this, by now.
There will be another distraction offered to Tavaly and her green thise vening, and it is announced in heavy wingbeats as a queen dragon swoops down and hovers above the ledge. The metal touch extended towards the smaller dragon is weighted like a thick and woolly banket and it is familiar, or, it was once. Tialith bids permission to land, her little rider perched atop her.
The green raises her head, canting it to the side and then bowing it. Permission most certainly granted. She shifts, leaving as much room as possible for the queen to land and deposit her passenger. Within the weyr, lit by the wild orange glow of fires hard-pressed to keep burning, the sound of a hammer stops. Toward the curtain the occupant stalks. And waits, for now.
Land she does then, crouching low and lingering long enough that Roa can scramble down and hit the stone with a soft thud. Then, after a small rumble to Immath, the gold is flying back to her own ledge until she's needed. The little weyrwoman offers the green a smile and takes a moment to set her clothes to rights and smooth her hair a bit. And then she walks to the curtain and tugs it open enough to peep inside. "Well, hey you," she says with a little smile. "Heard you'd come home."
Immath lifts her chin to the gold, offering her own tired, but friendly, warble. Good t'seeya, n'all that. When the curtain is pulled aside, Roa will find a figure bowing at the waist. A messy braid is lain over her shoulder, the crown of her head receiving the words. Out of place, of course, are the left arm and leg. The right of both are bare, however the left limbs are both cased in leather. A long glove up to the elbow, fingers left free. The leg wears a boot up to the knee with the actual foot portion missing. Both are held on by a series of ties. They're hiding things, of course. "Welcome, lady." She says. Respectful. Calm. Almost dignified. She rises from the bow, her cheeks smudged with possible dirt, but more likely the ash of burnt leather. "Figured my vacation in Ista was more'n over." She says, offering a lopsided smile.
"Seems so. I'm not...you don't have to...Roa," the weyrwoman says with a shake of her head. "I'm just Roa, and I'd love some tea." She slips inside more fully, letting the curtain fall shut behind her. Blue eyes take in the leather worn strangely and the smudges and the heat of the fire. "Tell me about Ista. Or about anything. Or ask me, if you have questions." Her smile is almost shy. "You were missed."
"I know I don't have to. Call it a moment of pride to simply be able to." Tav explains, her own grin creeping all the way across now. It's a full smile, then. Folding parts of her cheeks. "Tea it is, then! Please, make yourself comfortable." She grabs a fur throw and drapes it over one of
the armchairs. Cozy. She plucks the kettle from the top of the hearth, setting it on a hook just above the angry flame. "Ista.. sucked." Tav
says without hesitation. "Too hot. Too dry. Too... not here." Is her description of Ista. As for questions. "Reckon I've got more questions than you could shake a stick at, but mostly I'm still just damn glad to be back." She laughs, rummaging in a box, also atop the hearth. Tea
leaves. She prepares a pot, finding a cup and cleaning it out with a clean cloth produced from a pocket on her breeks. Roa's last statement gives her pause, and she gains an expression that's almost.. sheepish, looking down at the cup. "It's good." She says. "I was almost afraid of coming back, for a moment. Wasn't sure if the 'Reaches would want me back. Despite the circumstances, I feared y'all would think I abandoned the place." She admits, looking over to the woman. She's reserved tonight. A by-product of being alone with only her thoughts and her work.
The cozy armchair is chosen and Roa heads over to flop into it. She turns her head o watch Tavaly prepare the tea and set the kettle over the fire, blinking slowly as she listens. "I'd like to think we're a bit more clever than all of that," she notes with a small chuckle. "Have you
seen Jens-...R'en yet? That one took us a bit by surprise."
A laugh, then. Short. "Oh, don't think I didn't know deep down. Irrational thought always comes just before change." She says in regards to her own foolishness. And then another smile. This one containing /pride/. "Certainly have. R'vain told me when he came to Ista. Immath didn't want to wait. Reached out to Sehkrath soon as we got back. Saw Jen and the liddle bronze not too long after. R'en. That's what surprised me, really. Good name. Good meaning." She nods, once more distracted. This time by the hiss of the kettle, which is plucked from its place. No need for a potholder, the leather glove works just fine. She pours the hot, steaming water into the pot and plants a top on it. She sits on the footrest across from the woman, hands loosely clasped between her knees, parted so she can rest her elbows on each. "What do /you/ think about it?" She wants to know.
Leaning back into her chair again, Roa smiles faintly and shakes her head. "I think that it hit him pretty hard at first, but he's better now. I think it's a lot to adjust to and a lot he's being made to give up without anyone asking him if he minded. And, well, you know what he's like when you take his choices away." The weyrwoman rolls her eyes. "But I think he's going to do well, we need him, and now he's got a chance to touch so many more lives than he ever did before. That's not nothing. I hope he sees it, in time."
She's nodding. Waiting for the pot to steep. When it's been given enough time, by her measure, she pours a single cup and offers it, turning the handle toward the Weyrwoman. "You're right, on all counts, of course. Talked t'him about that sorta thing." She smirks, then. Feeling terribly clever. "Told him he got to be a Captain in the sky, now. Hopin' that maybe translated it a bit." She nods. "He'll do well. Better than well. He'll be the best fuckin' - beg pardon - bronzerider in this Weyr." She nods. "What's it gonna take to get 'im there?"
"Believe me, with R'vain in the office and Ashwin in the weyr, I've heard worse." Roa's smile is a little sheepish as she accepts the tea. "I've -said- worse," she admits meekly. "It'll take time, I think. It'll take D'ven knowing better than to pretend he's a fifteen-turn-old. He's inching there. I mentioned maybe Caucus, after he graduates, and he said he would. If that's not huge...he'll find his way. He always does." Sip.
Another laugh, this one ironic. "Seems D'ven's hearin' it from all sides, then. If he hasn't caught on by now, he's gonna just hafta learn the
hard way." Tav says, fingers on her left hand flexing absently. "Always does." Tav repeats. "He's good at it. Had t'do it a lot after he left home. I guess that's what this all must feel like for him. Leavin' home. All over again." She nods. "Said it before. 'll say it again. He'll come out on top. Always does." She glances away from the fire, toward the Weyrwoman again. "Gonna help him?" She asks, suddenly.
There is a faint smile of all of that and a small nod in regards to D'ven. "I think he's getting the message. He wants to do right by them, even
if what's right doesn't quite line up with his program all the time." Roa blows on the hot tea and takes another small sip. One brow hefts upwards. "You even have to ask?"
"I like 'im. Good man. Looked him in the eye when I spoke to him." She recalls. "He's a good choice. And he'll do as right as he can, if Jen'll
just.. let 'im. Think he's man enough to do it, too." Roa's question is met with another lopsided grin. "Don't suppose I do. Figured I just would." She finally lifts the end of her braid, stuffing it it back over her shoulder so it dangles down her back. "What about you. How you holdin' up? Weyrwoman, and all."
"I hope he'll let him. I think he will. He just won't like it very much." Roa's smile is tiny and so is the shake of her head. "I'm holding up all right. It's a bit different than I imagined, but I can't say that's a bad thing. Compared to the last pair of leaders, I'd say we're doing fairly well. Although, compared tot he last pair of leaders, that isn't saying overmuch." Her nose wrinkles. "You know, I can't even stand in the lunchline anymore."
"Compared to our last Leaders, Roa, you and R'vain are automatically placed upon a pedestal simply because you're /Reaches/. What you do beyond that is what endears you to the Weyr." And then Tav gets a little preachy. "Best thing for it, the lunchline bit, is to let it happen. Don' make 'em feel silly about doin' what's right by 'em. They want you to eat first, darnit, you go on up, say yer thank you's and let them watch ya pass 'em. Let 'em think they done you a good deed." She explains, then. Hands clasped, still hanging off of her knees. "Sometimes them small gestures are all a person's got they think is worth it to show to those they appreciate."
"I...well, I suppose. I never really thought of it as something people did to send a message to me. I thought, you know, they did it because they had all been told leadership shouldn't have to wait in line, and that just because Tialith flew, I was suddenly entitled to something I wasn't, the day before." The weyrwoman shakes her head. "I don't really want that. Rather just...be me. Help. Talk to the halls and holds when it's needed. But, it's not the way it works. Although...just now...there is a lot of talking to halls and holds." Roa rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "Have you stopped by to see Dara yet?"
"That's not how it's done here." Tav says with a grin. "We sass leadership we don' like an' treat the ones we do like a little better'n we treat our own parents, sometimes. S'far as most folk are concerned, you earn your respect. And judgin' by your treatment, I'd say you earned it rather well." Not so preachy, but still. "Be yourself, then. Hell, be whatever you want. You decide what kind of Weyrwoman you want to be remembered as." Her brows furrow. "Why all the talk?" She questions, then arches a brow. "Only in sleep. I go in and check on 'em every now and then. Heard she got caught by a blue. Good on 'er. Girl'll make a fine, fiesty rider."
"I think she will, if her skin can toughen a bit and she can get over her fears," Roa says with a small nod. "But. She would also be why all the talks. A woman on blue's never been done and most folks don't much want to see it done. So. Talking. Writing. Reassuring and the like." The weyrwoman peers down into her tea and then takes a sip. "People are idiots."
"They ain' got no choice. Soon as they're old enough to fly, I'll be gettin' her on my list. Doin' some extra credit with those I see as can
handle it. They're helpin' me with leather repair in the meantime; Immath's teachin' the dragons how to play." Tav says, nodding her head. She's got the papers, even, to say D'ven's completely cool with the idea. In a box. Somewhere. "I intend t'fully support her as a rider. She'll
need it. For a little while. 'Til she finds her wings." Roa's comment coaxes one of the older grins-o-mischief out of the locker in the back of
Tav's expressions. "People certainly are. We just have to educate them up a bit. Maybe a little etiquette'd do 'em some good, too." Look who's talking. x.x
"A little bit of sanity would do them good," Roa snorts. "It'll quiet down after a bit, at least until they graduate and she's in a wing. Then I
expect we'll hear fussing again. Wiat." She blinks, canting her ehad to the side, "Immath's teaching weyrling dragons how to fly? And you've got them helping with straps...and D'ven's all right with all of that?"
"Not just straps. Have 'em helpin' me with a few side projects. I aim t'have a goodly amount o' riding gear t'put back into the stores. They're
helpin' me with new patterns, and the like. I can only waste so much imagination on dead animal skins." She smirks. "While we work, Immath is teaching the greens and blues she things are up to it. Teachin' them the games. Three days a week are leather days, two days are Game days. They need agility. They can only learn so much of it from a bronzerider. No offense t'him, or anythin'. I just don't want to see a smaller able dragon go to seed." And here she smiles. "I asked him first. Told him what I'd be doin', he said fine, even signed a hide over to me sayin' I had his permission. I invited him over t'join, if he thinks he'd like."
As she listens, Roa's brows just creep higher and higher. "Have to say," the weyrwoman ntes with a soft chuckle, "I'm impressed. It's a good idea and, truthfully, one I never thought he'd go for. To allow a rider outside of his program to teach...this is good. He's thinking." A small nod. "So." Sip. "You said you had questions?"
"He read most of R'vain's notes. Saw mention that I was helping with that particular bunch, anyway. Told me he wants only the best for 'em, and I, personally, take this as another step toward that goal. They'll need it. They're not terrible, but they're bored and I think this might spice it up. Besides, the games happen during their free period, so I'm not interfering with the rest of their lessons. Might make a good leatherworker out of one or two of 'em, even. This place is gonna be a disaster area of herdbeast hide, for a while." She smiles. It's no small feat to get Roa's eyebrows to go up up UP. "Questions." She repeats the word, then bobs her head a couple times. "Thought I did." They seem to have disappeared. Then her face goes a little. Blank. Right. She laughs. "How's uh.. life with R'vain?" Girly talk time. Bwah.
"Which weyrlings did you pick?" Roa asks and then blinks at the final question. "He's, um...it's...he's trying. Hard. Hasn't touched a drink since he became weyrleader so far as I can tell. He's working on wing patterns that...they're good. And more than that, they demand that each rider thinks on their own. Remember all that potential we used to complain about him having and not using?" She smiles very faintly. "He's using it now. I could do without the parade of girls he slinks after. But..." the weyrwoman sighs and shakes her head. "Anyhow, it doesn't interfere with the work."
"Five. To start. J'sek and K'rom are among them. Shortly after the hatching, J'sek expressed interest in learning from T'zen. I.. suppose I'm a close second. Now that he's ready. Deserves /some/ sort of extra teaching." She explains, then nods her head. "Toldja he was a good man. If not in morals, then at least for ideas. Man's full of them. He told me, when he came to Ista, that he had a few. Seems he's already picked a wing for me to be stuffed into. Not back into 2C." She chews her inner lip. "Any way you could give me advance warning on what I'm in fore once Immath and I are back in the great blue?"
The weyrwoman taptaptaps a finger against her mug. "J'sek. Areteth's. I hear he's doing well. I saw to his unjuries after he hatched. Shelling bloody egg-smashing...do you know he--" but Roa stops abruptly and shakes her head. "I till can't believe anyone could do such a thing." She sighs softly. "They sound like good picks. But, the big blue? You mean his new formations or something else?"
"The formations, actually. And I remember. Areteth, apparently, does not have any problems once he's off the ground. And that, in a dragon, is absolutely fine." Tav says, leaning back until the balance of her legs before her allows her to lean so, arms crossing over her chest. "Yea. Did'ee discuss the formations with you, at all?"
"We have been over them, but they're his. I sort of feel...I mean if he didn't say, maybe there's a reason. Maybe he wants to see how riders will do without without getting the sitdown explanation, you know? See how it willa ctually work if he hands them off to a wingleader and they
praactice them with their wing. But," Roa smiles faintly, "they're good. You'll like them. From what I've seen, I think you'll like them a lot."
"Judging by the amount of smirking R'vain did when he mentioned them to me, I've got no choice /but/ to like them a lot. It's like a Turnday
present, I think. I'll see them when it's time." She nods. May it be said, a 'younger' Tavaly would have protested further, even got a little violent. This is change. For the better. "It'll be good. To stretch out the ol' wings again. Ista was fine, but between their too-traditional formations and our down time, we're feelin' a little rusty. Thinkin' this extra-credit Weyrling project'll help work out some of the kinks." She says, bobbing her head. And suddenly finds herself at a loss for words. This whole talking thing has become foreign. "How's tea?"
"It's good," The tea, that is. "Nobody ever told me...how did the scores happen?" Roa peeps up over her mugs, brows lifted a little bit.
"Accident. The first time. Stubbornness the second. Wasn't until the third time that we finally dropped out of the 'fall." Tav says. "First time,
got my leg. Immath took us between, brushed it off. Didn't feel much after the cold seeped in. Kept goin' a while. 'Nother patch fell through
the cracks. Almost landed on Immath's neck." The left hand tightens its fingers. "Had to knock it out of the way. Between again. Came out and Immath's cheek caught a bit. Finally told 'er to take us on down. It was a sloppy 'fall." Tav says glumly. "Shouldn'a been like that. There's plenty to say about tradition, 'cept when it's so horribly uncreative. Need to fight Thread like Thread ought to be fought. New, each time. May behave the same. Don' always 'fall the same."
Roa winces one, two, three times. "You're the only rider I know who'd...Faranth, Tavaly. -Three- times in -one- fall? Shells." The weyrwoman tsks softly, but then she adds, "You're not the only one who feels that way about 'fall and formations. Things are changing for the better I think. Much as some would argue change is never for the better."
She laughs, at first. The almost-chiding from Roa. "Didn't have much choice." She says quietly, sobering slightly. "It was a heavy 'fall. I'd been down to rest once already. We were back up, helpin' to resupply the bronzes and browns, once we caught our wind, back. Couldn't leave 'em up there with nuthin' but open noses to fight Thread with." She chews the inside of her lip. On formations, "Oh, I know it. Damn tired of seein' tradition kill off younger riders. I think D'ven'll want to know the formations, too. That way, once they've been tested - been proven - he can update the training. Get the Weyrlings learning early." She takes her lower lip between her teeth and nods her head a couple times. "I agree. Changin' for the good. And only old people complain about change never being better. Lucky for us we got Weyrleaders with young heads full of ideas and the guts to make 'em happen. Good on ya." And then a small smile. "What's feel like leadin' the Queens wing, eh?"
"I..." Roa leans back with a skeptical look on her features, "I'm not sure D'ven will want to update the wings. He's rather...fond of tradition. He likes things as they were. Or has he imagined they were, which sometimes I wonder about. Not sure what he recalls and how the world truly was are the same thing. He's very caught up in things being just so and just the way they were. So. We'll see. He also wants his weyrlings to survive, so...well. We'll just see," the weyrwoman finds herself repeating. "Leading the queen's wing was interesting. In some ways, it's a lot like just flying in it. There's only the three of us and sometimes four if Vasyath is up to it. We all know the other dragons fairly well, at least in the context of flying thread. It's more individualized, I think, than the bigger wings. I'm, um, taking a bit of a break. From flying in it, though."
Nodding, Tav accepts this piece of information. The thing with D'ven, that is. "Yea. We'll see. There's time." She assesses, then fixes Roa with a stare like, 'Are you bonkers?' "A break?" She questions. "What, bored already? Shoot, R'vain oughta draw up some interesting formations for you all, too, then."
"I, uhm, no. Not bored. I'd like to, I just can't right now. I'm, that is..." Roa clears her throat and finds momentary refuge into another small sip of tea. Then, quick and quiet, " 'm pregnant."
"Oh!" Tav says, zero air time spared. No long gawky pause. "Happens." She follows up with, doing her pursed-lips, nodding thing. "No wonder, considering the flight and all." And R'vain possibly being the most virile man on the face of Pern. Gracious. "Got a name picked out either way?"
Blink. "What?" Roa's head jerks up and her jaw drops. "No, not...it's not." Right. Tea. The weyrwoman stares down at her mug and clears her throat. "It wasn't the flight. It's not R'vain. I mean it's...Ashwin and I are, uhm..." Tea! "Anyhow, it's his. Ours." Yeah.
Okay, now the gawky confused look. "Oh." Again. And then a laugh. "Ashwin, huh?" She says, smiling. Lopsided. "He's a good sort. For the longest time I thought it'd be Jen that you chose. Y'all spending so much time together, and all. A good choice, though. Ashwin." She closes her eyes. "Make a cute couple." She opens one eye, smirking. "'M happy for ya. Sounds like everything's all.. well, keen."
"Yeh," Roa murmurs with a small nod. "For a time, I think that a number of folk thought that. Went a different way, though, and I think it went the way it was supposed to. Jen and I, think we're best off as we are. And Ash...yeh. He's a good sort." There is no more tea. Only an empty mug to stare down into. "This last bit wasn't exactly expected, but...it is. Can't regret it, really, for all that it's miserable timing."
"Better now when you don't expect it than later when you want it and get frustrated." Tav offers. For whatever reason, can't be sure. Something her mother mentioned, once, she remembers. "Babe'll have good care, too. Heck, I'll even babysit, if y'need a breather." The greenrider offers, smiling slightly. "More tea?" She questions, plucking the pot from atop the hearth and holding it, ready.
The mug is stared down into some more. "Oh. No, thank you. I might take you up on that offer sometime, though." Roa smiles faintly and shakes her head. "We'll have to figure all that out. He's with the guard during the day, and I'm doing Faanth knows what. Someone will have to watch her when we can't. I don't know. There's time, yet. Only it's getting late and I've an early morning. I should probably...thank you for the tea, Tavaly."
"Ma keeps me well supplied. You come hide here anytime you need tea and whatever." She offers, standing and offering the woman a hand. To help her up, or simply just to help. "Get some rest. T'morrow's another day, and who knows what awful things lurk in piles of papers, mm?" Immath stalks into the weyr, catching the last conversational bits. Her cheek still bears the black marks of threadscore, but it seems well tended.
"Just so," the weyrwoman agrees, slipping her hand into the greenrider's and pushing up into a stand. "Feel free to drop by yourself, you ever feel the inclination. Thank you, again. It's good to see you home." Immath gets another look and then wingbeats fill the air as Tialith swoops in to land and reclaim her rider.