Strictly Business
IC Date: Day 12, Month 7, Turn 2, 7th Pass
Players: Rysia, E'sere, Vanya
Location: Living Cavern, Vanya's Room
Synopsis: A tired Vanya goes to have dinner in the Living Cavern and runs into a familiar face, and meets Rysia just before she leaves. Aida leaves just as Vanya enters.
Living Cavern
Large enough to hold the majority of the Weyr's human population, this cavern can become loud enough to deafen thanks to the acoustics caused by its size. The ceiling is so far overhead that it's cast into shadow, a darkness that is broken only by the spark and glitter of a lucky beam of light striking the minerals found in the rock walls. Below, most of the floor is covered with an assortment of long tables and benches. There are some smaller tables, surrounded by chairs, but privacy appears to be a rare thing in this bustling cavern. Large hearths line the west wall, with fires burning day and night to warm the food and drink that keep the Weyr's inhabitants fueled. The serving tables are near the hearth, opposite the dais that holds the single table reserved for the Weyr leadership and honored guests.
Rysia chuckles, "That doesn't sound very reassurin', but that's alright." The weaver resident and wingleader are sitting at one of the tables. Rys, at least, as dinner in front of her, or at least the mangled corpses there of.
Setting her mug down on the table, Aida flashes the pair of them a bright smile. "It isn't you, Rysia," she promises. "I'll see you soon -- and you, Wingleader?" A quick grin, and then she's turning to go bolting after N'tai. "Take care, both of you," she calls, over her shoulder. And then zoom.
"Maybe it's me," E'sere jokes with Rysia. "There's only so much of me people can stand in a night, I suppose. Rysia, yes?" he checks her name. "And you weave? What sort of things do you weave again?"
Dinner hour is probably almost over before Vanya enters the living cavern, looking like maybe she just woke up from a nap. As a matter of fact, she stifles a yawn as she makes her way toward the food table, eyes at half-mast as she picks up a plate, then picks over what's left. She doesn't pick up much, just a few things, and a mug of klah. Pausing, she looks around, sees at least one familiar face, and moves in that direction. "Evening, Wingleader, miss," she says pleasantly. "Room for one more?" Was that Aida zooming off just before she arrived? Well, yes it was, but Vanya was too late to catch her.
Rysia chuckles, "That or they're wonderin' if that bruisin' incident is to be happenin' again..." she replies, before nodding, "Guilty on all accounts - an' mostly blankets. Weave, crochet, knit - they all be findin' me at one time or another. Rugs an' towels as well." At the question, Rysia moves to one side, bringing her plate and mug with her, accompanied with, "Rysia."
"Journeyman," E'sere returns Vanya's greetings politely, offering her a quick smile. "Please, no. Join me. I was just showing off my well-tended pains and making up stories about a valiant rescue attempt, or something like that," he jokes, reaching up to touch the bruishes again. And, to Rysia: "Promise it wasn't my fault. Never hit anyone," he defends himself good-naturedly.
Vanya nods. "Vanya, Journeyman healer," she says by way of introduction to Rysia, then nods to E'sere. "How's the bruising?" she inquires, glancing at his face, studying it carefully. "Looks better today than last night, at least." She smiles as she sits down at the table, stifling another yawn. "Sorry, it's not the company, it's the night shift, day shift, rotation. You get used to one pattern, then they switch you." She shrugs, sipping the mug of klah, and giving a slightly sour face. "Never did get used to this."
Rysia hms, and nods at Vanya, "'nother reason to stay outta the infirmary whene'er possible - a'course, they wouldn't be havin' me about even if I wanted to be. Somethin' 'bout too many sharp, pointed things to be fallin' on." E'sere gets a look, then a rather faint grin, "Oh, aye, I'll not be doubtin' that - course, there's other ways to be causin' trouble... an' on that note, I best be findin' Ma before she rings trouble down on /me/. G'night Wingleader, Journeyman..." she adds, getting to her feet and considerately stumbling over the bench, before turning to pick up her dishes.
"Feels better, too," E'sere tells Vanya cheerfully. "That salve you gave me helped. What was in it again? I feel like I might ought to stock up on it so I can nurse my own wounds, though there's something to be said for a healer's touch. I think I've already got you fighting over me--Aida offered to take care of me next time I come out on the losing end." He looks crestfallen, however, when Rysia rises. "You, too, Rysia?" he queries. "Now I /know/ it's me!"
Vanya nods at Rysia, smiling. "Nice to meet you, but we keep all the sharp pointy things safely in drawers or cabinets, so it's really quite safe," she says regarding the infirmary. To E'sere, she replies, "A bit of numbweed, hyssop, glycerine and some other herbs. It'll bring the swelling down, mostly."
Rysia flashes a bit of a stronger grin, "Well, at least this way, there'll be less fightin' over?" she offers to the rider, before adding, "An' a single conversation ain't enough to turn no-one away, well, unless words can't be strung together, so don't be worryin' overly much. An' that's good to hear, though I'm sure I'd still be managing it. Somehow." And with that, she heads away, and hey - it's a good night. She only bounces off half the benches and tables in her travels.
"Take care, Rysia," E'sere tells the weaver as she leaves, watching her bumbling progress with a bemused tilt to his smile. Then, he glances back to Vanya, quirking a brow slightly. "I'll remember that for next time," he tells her easily, nodding once. "It's helped."
Vanya nods again, a little quiet this night. But she looks after the girl, studying her a moment then turning back to E'sere. "Sorry, didn't mean to run your company off," she says, and it's not sarcasm, just weariness in her voice. "I'm glad the salve worked. I'm going to have to see if I can make more up. I've a feeling yours aren't the last of the bruises we'll see." She takes a bite of food, chews a moment, then washes it down with klah. Then, lowering her voice, she remarks, "I heard two new goldriders were transferred in." There's no particular worry in her tone, merely curiosity. "And, I officially met the Weyrlingmaster today. He's agreed to let me come observe the training."
"Oh, really? That's good to hear," E'sere remarks in answer to Vanya's latter words. Though he's long since given up on his own half-eaten dinner, he picks his fork back up and toys with it and the cold leftovers, frowning. "One new, one old," he corrects after a moment, holding up one finger of his free hand. "The Weyrwoman Roa, formerly of my cousin S'lien's Telgar, and Mother, home from there as well." He frowns.
Vanya watches E'sere's face carefully, but doesn't say anything, not with people lingering around. "Well, perhaps someone thought the weyr could benefit from an experienced weyrwoman," she offers, keeping her tone neutral. But if anyone looks closely, there's concern in those green-gold eyes. "Perhaps they can help stabilize things, and guide Sinopa?" Still neutral. "I understand she isn't very experienced at being senior goldrider." But underneath, there is worry. "At least, I'll hope for stability, and an end to the troubles."
E'sere takes a deep breath, nods once. Then, he flashes another quick smile at Vanya, as though he were unbothered by these developments. "Of course. The Weyrwoman Sinopa is a sweet girl, but she'll benefit from having Mother to help her again, and High Reaches will benefit from another young, fertile queen," he agrees, nodding. "Telgar has been very generous to send them both to us."
The expression on Vanya's face remains neutral, but her eyes watch E'sere closely. "I'm afraid I don't know enough about the political situation here to comment intelligently, but I will certainly hope for the best," she says, conscious of everyone around her, and maybe a couple of glances in her direction. "And, I've made some notes regrading the warm-up exercises I think you might be interested in seeing. I appreciated the opportunity to watch your wing drilling the other day. Perhaps you like to drop by my room and go over them?" Said a little more in a conversational tone. "I'd really like your input before I present them to other wingleaders."
"Warm-up exercises?" E'sere blinks once and then nods. "Certainly, I'll have a look at them, whenever you've free time to show them to me?" He sets the fork down again and pushes his plate away, glancing up at Vanya.
"I'm off tonight, as a matter of fact," the healer replies. "Yes, I've some ideas regarding warm-up exercises that may stave off back pains later in a rider's life. Ones that will stretch the appropriate muscles for the twisting motion used in passing firestone. I'm all for preventative measures, as you well know." She tries to eat a bit more, but doesn't seem to have much appetite tonight. "I'd be happy to go over them with you, and talk ... about my ideas. I'd be very pleased with your input, Wingleader." All very appropriate. "They're in my room."
"Well, all right, then," E'sere agrees, nodding again. "I'll take a look at them, and perhaps I can try out some of them in the morning during my wing's drills--journeyman?" The title lilts into a question as he gets to his feet, pushing his chair under the table as he does so.
With a nod, Vanya rises, picking up her empty plate, but is circumvented by the timely arrival of a kitchen girl who is cleaning tables. She's told not to worry over the dirty dishes, and Vanya smiles, thanks the girl, and moves from her chair. "It's best if they're done before the drills, actually," she says, moving around the table to stand beside E'sere. "But, I can explain better with the notes. Shall we, then, Wingleader?" she asks, gesturing toward the exit to the lower caverns.
"We'll do them in the beginning, then, journeyman," E'sere agrees, nodding as he starts to the lower caverns, letting Vanya take the lead to her room.
"Very well," Vanya says, smiling professionally to E'sere. "If you'll come with me, I can show you the notes, and demonstrate the kind of warm-up exercises I think will help." She moves off toward the exit, obviously expecting the bronzerider to follow her.
Vanya's Room
There isn't much a person can do to disguise the fact this room is little more than a cave. The walls are stone, smoothed by hand or by some long-forgotten or long-gone machine used by those who first built the weyr. The door is solid wood, sturdy, the fixtures utilitarian. The basic furniture is all there -- bed, table, two chairs, wall shelves and a wooden storage chest. Simple. As is the occupant, since there is little in the way of fancy knickknacks or personal possessions. The bed has plain sheets, two down-filled pillows, and a warm, woven blanket in dark green. The chest holds clothes, and more blankets as a bastion against the cold, High Reaches winter. A glow basket hangs from the wall over the bed, another sits on the table, glows replenished whenever needed by those unseen people who perform this task.
On a shelf above the table are a bottle of ink, writing instruments, sand and some already prepared hides. Very rare and precious paper documents are carefully arranged on another shelf, held down by a polished stone collected from some place. Yet another shelf holds vials and bottles of lotions, astringents, and other containers of herbs and oils. The only luxurious thing here, if it can be called that, is a hand-made rug that lies beside the bed on top of a thick layer of reeds. Stone floors are notoriously cold on bare feet. A black cloak hangs on a peg by the door, as does a gittern, the instrument carefully wrapped in a protective bag. A basket, leather satchel and two pairs of boots sit on the floor beneath.
E'sere obediently follows Vanya to her room, all polite small-talk and titles in the meantime. It's not until she's let him in, and he's slid the door shut behind him that he relaxes, leaning back against the latched door for several seconds as he simply looks at her, expectant.
Vanya moves into her room, turning to face E'sere as he closes the door. She doesn't say anything for a long moment or two, then moves to the table where there /are/ notes carefully written on several pieces of hide. "I did these up today while I couldn't sleep. They really do outline some exercises that may loosen up the right muscle groups on riders," she explains, placing a hand on the hides. "You can take them with you, and that way, no one should ... think this was anything but a serious discussion between us." It's only then that she moves to him, uncertain what to do. "Do you want to talk, E'sere? I'll listen -- or whatever it is you need me to do."
E'sere rakes a hand back through his hair as he straightens, glancing absently at the hides. He moves to brush past Vanya and seat himself on the edge of her bed, hands sinking into a grip on its edge as he stares at the wall. "I'm fine. There's nothing to talk about," he tells her. "I'm just... Everything's in the hides?"
Vanya watches him, brow knitted. "E'sere, that's not the kind of reaction that says everything's fine," she says softly, moving to the bed and sinking down beside him. A hand is placed on his shoulder, resting softly, to comfort. "You're all tensed up, and even I can feel the 'not fine' emanating from you." She pauses, takes a breath, exhales slowly. "I can't force you to talk, and I won't, but I'm here. That's all I can say." She takes another breath. "Yes, everything's in the hides, but I really should show you what the diagrams mean. If you'd rather keep this business, I can do that."
E'sere takes a deep breath, nodding slowly. "I understand," he says. But he doesn't elaborate, only nods once more and glances sideways at her, offering that wry smile again, the one he's so good at. "So. Let's look at these diagrams, hmm?" he suggests.
Vanya nods, rising and moving over to the table, bringing back with her a few sheets of hide, some with neat writing, others with some sketches of what could be torsos. "As you can see by the arrows here and here," she explains, "one of these warm ups simulates the side to side motion of passing bags of firestone." Once he's taken the hides, she stands in front of him, feet evenly spaced, hands on her hips. "A simple twist from side to side like this," and she demonstrates, "will loosen the particular muscles needed. I'm not talking a long time, about ten to fifteen from both sides, and that's about it."
E'sere watches Vanya intently, bobbing his head slowly as she demonstrates and he glances from her to the hides. "I see. That sounds simple enough. Ten to fifteen, each side. That's all there is to it?" Nothing personal, all business still, as though they were still out in the living cavern in front of the Weyr.
"Pretty much. I'd also recommend a few bending movements, too, but that's simple. I noted a few of the riders already do those. And, the jogging warms up the leg muscles, of course. This is all in theory, so if you and your wing are willing to try this experiment, then tell me if it does make the drill easier, I'll know more." She stops, wincing a little, and placing a hand at her back. "If it works, I'd like to present it to other wingleaders, though I've only talked to you and Br'ce about it so far. Eventually, I might speak to the Weyrlingmaster regarding integrating this into weyrling training. He seemed willing to let me visit the compound and observe them. But I don't want to ... push anything. I'll have to see how receptive he is to me, first."
"Oh, I'm sure he'll be extremely receptive," E'sere notes absently on the subject of R'vain. "He usually is." A pause. "I'll try it out tomorrow; it seems like it's worth a try, anyway. Thank you."
"No, thank /you/, E'sere," Vanya says, giving him an odd look. "I hope it does help, and I'm willing to talk to your wing if they're uncertain." She pauses, her brow creased a little. "Have I done something wrong?" she asks, finally. "Something to upset you?" Her hands lower from her hips to hang loosely at her sides. "I know we talked of discretion, but ... I get the feeling I've somehow ..." The words trail into silence.
E'sere, still with that distracted expression, nods toward Vanya and is silent, thoughtful--until her latter question. Blinking, brows furrowing, he looks up at her and frowns. "I--I'm sorry," he tells her after a moment, still subdued. "It's not you. It's--well. Everything, really. But I'm fine; don't worry about me."
"You know I can't do that," Vanya says, moving to stand next to the bed. "I can't help but worry about you, E'sere. When you come in with a bruised face after some rider hit you, and I know how you feel about ... about what's going on. You told me what happened with your mother and your cousin. I can't just ... I'm not able to just ignore this." She once more places a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not trying to push, but I can't help but think you're troubled by this new development."
E'sere's eyes cut sideways to her hand on his shoulder, the rider's lips pursing. "I know," he agrees. "I just... I can't explain it. I'm sorry. It's not something that I can just put into words like that. It's too--it's too--I'm sorry."
Vanya nods, her hand gently squeezing that shoulder. "Too personal?" she offers, smiling. "I can understand that, E'sere. Before recently, I couldn't put a lot of my feelings into words, either. There's something about you and some others here have taught me to open up a bit -- well, a /lot/ more than I ever have before." She moves now to sit beside him, close enough he knows he's not alone, yet far enough away he's not crowded. "Just try to not let things get to you, please. Don't let frustration make you reckless. Not now. You're so close to getting everything you want."
"I'm sorry," E'sere repeats again. "I'm... I'm okay. Really. I just... need some time to sort things out in my head." He lifts his shoulders slightly, still frowning, eyes on the far wall again. "Mother... Mother would have me be Weyrleader to Roa. Not Sinopa."
Vanya listens, making no comment for several moments. "You don't have to apologize to me, E'sere, really you don't." She pauses, pursing her lips. "I don't know either Roa or Sinopa, so you'll have to explain why there would be a difference. Surely, if Morelenth flies the gold of either rider, you would still be Weyrleader, and that's the important thing." She pauses again. "Is it that you don't like this Roa? Or don't trust her to be a partner to you? I wish I were better informed, but I'm not."
"It's that--it's that she's /Mother's/," E'sere says, glancing around with widening eyes. "And S'lien's. They're doing just like Ganathon, bringing foreigners in to run our Weyr. And they're not doing this out of the goodness of their hearts, either--you don't know them. They're sharks, both of them--especially S'lien. He's always controlled Mother, and together, they're going to control Roa and this Weyr. It doesn't matter what /I/ do, win or lose or... anything. It doesn't matter."
Vanya's brow creases again, and she begins to understand now. "I see..." Yes, she actually does see. Vanya is very quiet for a long time. "When I was growing up, I had a dream, too. I wanted to be a Harper. But my mother had decided I was to become a healer." She speaks very softly. "I hated it because I didn't have a choice in the matter. In my own life, no choice but to be what /she/ wanted me to be." She takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "It wasn't until Master Simbum gave us an assignment that I learned I could take her dream and make it my own. So I did. I became a healer, but /my/ kind of healer. I know this is much different, but you can do it, too, E'sere. You can do what your mother wishes, but you can do it /your/ way. You are smart, and far more clever than I am. You can be very persuasive and diplomatic. I believe in you, E'sere. So do others. Take what they offer, but take it on your terms. You're strong enough. I know you are."
"Yes," E'sere agrees quietly, slowly. He nods once, glancing to Vanya again, offering her a half-smile. "I should go," he tells her then. "I can't stay. But--thank you."
"If you need to go, yes, but you know you're welcome to visit any time," Vanya says, nodding. "E'sere ... you're a good man, and I can't help but think you can persuade this Roa to help you, not to let your mother pull the strings. I can't see how, if she gets to know you, how she can't see you're the best one to lead this weyr. Even those who may not like you must see that." She rises, smiling down at him. "Make their dream for you your own, E'sere. I'll be back here in the shadows cheering you on, supporting you however I can. Please believe that." She holds her hand out to help him stand. "Just believe in yourself half as much as I believe in you, and it will happen."
E'sere takes Vanya's hand, though he doesn't put any weight on it as he stands. When he straightens, he casts her a quick smile and leans forward to press a brief kiss to her lips, then steps back again. "Thank you. Good night, Vanya," he murmurs before he turns to slip out again, taking the hides as he does so.
"Rest well, E'sere," Vanya says, watching him as he leaves. "Trust in yourself. Just ... trust in yourself." And she lifts a hand to bid him good night as the door closes behind him.
Players: Rysia, E'sere, Vanya
Location: Living Cavern, Vanya's Room
Synopsis: A tired Vanya goes to have dinner in the Living Cavern and runs into a familiar face, and meets Rysia just before she leaves. Aida leaves just as Vanya enters.
Living Cavern
Large enough to hold the majority of the Weyr's human population, this cavern can become loud enough to deafen thanks to the acoustics caused by its size. The ceiling is so far overhead that it's cast into shadow, a darkness that is broken only by the spark and glitter of a lucky beam of light striking the minerals found in the rock walls. Below, most of the floor is covered with an assortment of long tables and benches. There are some smaller tables, surrounded by chairs, but privacy appears to be a rare thing in this bustling cavern. Large hearths line the west wall, with fires burning day and night to warm the food and drink that keep the Weyr's inhabitants fueled. The serving tables are near the hearth, opposite the dais that holds the single table reserved for the Weyr leadership and honored guests.
Rysia chuckles, "That doesn't sound very reassurin', but that's alright." The weaver resident and wingleader are sitting at one of the tables. Rys, at least, as dinner in front of her, or at least the mangled corpses there of.
Setting her mug down on the table, Aida flashes the pair of them a bright smile. "It isn't you, Rysia," she promises. "I'll see you soon -- and you, Wingleader?" A quick grin, and then she's turning to go bolting after N'tai. "Take care, both of you," she calls, over her shoulder. And then zoom.
"Maybe it's me," E'sere jokes with Rysia. "There's only so much of me people can stand in a night, I suppose. Rysia, yes?" he checks her name. "And you weave? What sort of things do you weave again?"
Dinner hour is probably almost over before Vanya enters the living cavern, looking like maybe she just woke up from a nap. As a matter of fact, she stifles a yawn as she makes her way toward the food table, eyes at half-mast as she picks up a plate, then picks over what's left. She doesn't pick up much, just a few things, and a mug of klah. Pausing, she looks around, sees at least one familiar face, and moves in that direction. "Evening, Wingleader, miss," she says pleasantly. "Room for one more?" Was that Aida zooming off just before she arrived? Well, yes it was, but Vanya was too late to catch her.
Rysia chuckles, "That or they're wonderin' if that bruisin' incident is to be happenin' again..." she replies, before nodding, "Guilty on all accounts - an' mostly blankets. Weave, crochet, knit - they all be findin' me at one time or another. Rugs an' towels as well." At the question, Rysia moves to one side, bringing her plate and mug with her, accompanied with, "Rysia."
"Journeyman," E'sere returns Vanya's greetings politely, offering her a quick smile. "Please, no. Join me. I was just showing off my well-tended pains and making up stories about a valiant rescue attempt, or something like that," he jokes, reaching up to touch the bruishes again. And, to Rysia: "Promise it wasn't my fault. Never hit anyone," he defends himself good-naturedly.
Vanya nods. "Vanya, Journeyman healer," she says by way of introduction to Rysia, then nods to E'sere. "How's the bruising?" she inquires, glancing at his face, studying it carefully. "Looks better today than last night, at least." She smiles as she sits down at the table, stifling another yawn. "Sorry, it's not the company, it's the night shift, day shift, rotation. You get used to one pattern, then they switch you." She shrugs, sipping the mug of klah, and giving a slightly sour face. "Never did get used to this."
Rysia hms, and nods at Vanya, "'nother reason to stay outta the infirmary whene'er possible - a'course, they wouldn't be havin' me about even if I wanted to be. Somethin' 'bout too many sharp, pointed things to be fallin' on." E'sere gets a look, then a rather faint grin, "Oh, aye, I'll not be doubtin' that - course, there's other ways to be causin' trouble... an' on that note, I best be findin' Ma before she rings trouble down on /me/. G'night Wingleader, Journeyman..." she adds, getting to her feet and considerately stumbling over the bench, before turning to pick up her dishes.
"Feels better, too," E'sere tells Vanya cheerfully. "That salve you gave me helped. What was in it again? I feel like I might ought to stock up on it so I can nurse my own wounds, though there's something to be said for a healer's touch. I think I've already got you fighting over me--Aida offered to take care of me next time I come out on the losing end." He looks crestfallen, however, when Rysia rises. "You, too, Rysia?" he queries. "Now I /know/ it's me!"
Vanya nods at Rysia, smiling. "Nice to meet you, but we keep all the sharp pointy things safely in drawers or cabinets, so it's really quite safe," she says regarding the infirmary. To E'sere, she replies, "A bit of numbweed, hyssop, glycerine and some other herbs. It'll bring the swelling down, mostly."
Rysia flashes a bit of a stronger grin, "Well, at least this way, there'll be less fightin' over?" she offers to the rider, before adding, "An' a single conversation ain't enough to turn no-one away, well, unless words can't be strung together, so don't be worryin' overly much. An' that's good to hear, though I'm sure I'd still be managing it. Somehow." And with that, she heads away, and hey - it's a good night. She only bounces off half the benches and tables in her travels.
"Take care, Rysia," E'sere tells the weaver as she leaves, watching her bumbling progress with a bemused tilt to his smile. Then, he glances back to Vanya, quirking a brow slightly. "I'll remember that for next time," he tells her easily, nodding once. "It's helped."
Vanya nods again, a little quiet this night. But she looks after the girl, studying her a moment then turning back to E'sere. "Sorry, didn't mean to run your company off," she says, and it's not sarcasm, just weariness in her voice. "I'm glad the salve worked. I'm going to have to see if I can make more up. I've a feeling yours aren't the last of the bruises we'll see." She takes a bite of food, chews a moment, then washes it down with klah. Then, lowering her voice, she remarks, "I heard two new goldriders were transferred in." There's no particular worry in her tone, merely curiosity. "And, I officially met the Weyrlingmaster today. He's agreed to let me come observe the training."
"Oh, really? That's good to hear," E'sere remarks in answer to Vanya's latter words. Though he's long since given up on his own half-eaten dinner, he picks his fork back up and toys with it and the cold leftovers, frowning. "One new, one old," he corrects after a moment, holding up one finger of his free hand. "The Weyrwoman Roa, formerly of my cousin S'lien's Telgar, and Mother, home from there as well." He frowns.
Vanya watches E'sere's face carefully, but doesn't say anything, not with people lingering around. "Well, perhaps someone thought the weyr could benefit from an experienced weyrwoman," she offers, keeping her tone neutral. But if anyone looks closely, there's concern in those green-gold eyes. "Perhaps they can help stabilize things, and guide Sinopa?" Still neutral. "I understand she isn't very experienced at being senior goldrider." But underneath, there is worry. "At least, I'll hope for stability, and an end to the troubles."
E'sere takes a deep breath, nods once. Then, he flashes another quick smile at Vanya, as though he were unbothered by these developments. "Of course. The Weyrwoman Sinopa is a sweet girl, but she'll benefit from having Mother to help her again, and High Reaches will benefit from another young, fertile queen," he agrees, nodding. "Telgar has been very generous to send them both to us."
The expression on Vanya's face remains neutral, but her eyes watch E'sere closely. "I'm afraid I don't know enough about the political situation here to comment intelligently, but I will certainly hope for the best," she says, conscious of everyone around her, and maybe a couple of glances in her direction. "And, I've made some notes regrading the warm-up exercises I think you might be interested in seeing. I appreciated the opportunity to watch your wing drilling the other day. Perhaps you like to drop by my room and go over them?" Said a little more in a conversational tone. "I'd really like your input before I present them to other wingleaders."
"Warm-up exercises?" E'sere blinks once and then nods. "Certainly, I'll have a look at them, whenever you've free time to show them to me?" He sets the fork down again and pushes his plate away, glancing up at Vanya.
"I'm off tonight, as a matter of fact," the healer replies. "Yes, I've some ideas regarding warm-up exercises that may stave off back pains later in a rider's life. Ones that will stretch the appropriate muscles for the twisting motion used in passing firestone. I'm all for preventative measures, as you well know." She tries to eat a bit more, but doesn't seem to have much appetite tonight. "I'd be happy to go over them with you, and talk ... about my ideas. I'd be very pleased with your input, Wingleader." All very appropriate. "They're in my room."
"Well, all right, then," E'sere agrees, nodding again. "I'll take a look at them, and perhaps I can try out some of them in the morning during my wing's drills--journeyman?" The title lilts into a question as he gets to his feet, pushing his chair under the table as he does so.
With a nod, Vanya rises, picking up her empty plate, but is circumvented by the timely arrival of a kitchen girl who is cleaning tables. She's told not to worry over the dirty dishes, and Vanya smiles, thanks the girl, and moves from her chair. "It's best if they're done before the drills, actually," she says, moving around the table to stand beside E'sere. "But, I can explain better with the notes. Shall we, then, Wingleader?" she asks, gesturing toward the exit to the lower caverns.
"We'll do them in the beginning, then, journeyman," E'sere agrees, nodding as he starts to the lower caverns, letting Vanya take the lead to her room.
"Very well," Vanya says, smiling professionally to E'sere. "If you'll come with me, I can show you the notes, and demonstrate the kind of warm-up exercises I think will help." She moves off toward the exit, obviously expecting the bronzerider to follow her.
Vanya's Room
There isn't much a person can do to disguise the fact this room is little more than a cave. The walls are stone, smoothed by hand or by some long-forgotten or long-gone machine used by those who first built the weyr. The door is solid wood, sturdy, the fixtures utilitarian. The basic furniture is all there -- bed, table, two chairs, wall shelves and a wooden storage chest. Simple. As is the occupant, since there is little in the way of fancy knickknacks or personal possessions. The bed has plain sheets, two down-filled pillows, and a warm, woven blanket in dark green. The chest holds clothes, and more blankets as a bastion against the cold, High Reaches winter. A glow basket hangs from the wall over the bed, another sits on the table, glows replenished whenever needed by those unseen people who perform this task.
On a shelf above the table are a bottle of ink, writing instruments, sand and some already prepared hides. Very rare and precious paper documents are carefully arranged on another shelf, held down by a polished stone collected from some place. Yet another shelf holds vials and bottles of lotions, astringents, and other containers of herbs and oils. The only luxurious thing here, if it can be called that, is a hand-made rug that lies beside the bed on top of a thick layer of reeds. Stone floors are notoriously cold on bare feet. A black cloak hangs on a peg by the door, as does a gittern, the instrument carefully wrapped in a protective bag. A basket, leather satchel and two pairs of boots sit on the floor beneath.
E'sere obediently follows Vanya to her room, all polite small-talk and titles in the meantime. It's not until she's let him in, and he's slid the door shut behind him that he relaxes, leaning back against the latched door for several seconds as he simply looks at her, expectant.
Vanya moves into her room, turning to face E'sere as he closes the door. She doesn't say anything for a long moment or two, then moves to the table where there /are/ notes carefully written on several pieces of hide. "I did these up today while I couldn't sleep. They really do outline some exercises that may loosen up the right muscle groups on riders," she explains, placing a hand on the hides. "You can take them with you, and that way, no one should ... think this was anything but a serious discussion between us." It's only then that she moves to him, uncertain what to do. "Do you want to talk, E'sere? I'll listen -- or whatever it is you need me to do."
E'sere rakes a hand back through his hair as he straightens, glancing absently at the hides. He moves to brush past Vanya and seat himself on the edge of her bed, hands sinking into a grip on its edge as he stares at the wall. "I'm fine. There's nothing to talk about," he tells her. "I'm just... Everything's in the hides?"
Vanya watches him, brow knitted. "E'sere, that's not the kind of reaction that says everything's fine," she says softly, moving to the bed and sinking down beside him. A hand is placed on his shoulder, resting softly, to comfort. "You're all tensed up, and even I can feel the 'not fine' emanating from you." She pauses, takes a breath, exhales slowly. "I can't force you to talk, and I won't, but I'm here. That's all I can say." She takes another breath. "Yes, everything's in the hides, but I really should show you what the diagrams mean. If you'd rather keep this business, I can do that."
E'sere takes a deep breath, nodding slowly. "I understand," he says. But he doesn't elaborate, only nods once more and glances sideways at her, offering that wry smile again, the one he's so good at. "So. Let's look at these diagrams, hmm?" he suggests.
Vanya nods, rising and moving over to the table, bringing back with her a few sheets of hide, some with neat writing, others with some sketches of what could be torsos. "As you can see by the arrows here and here," she explains, "one of these warm ups simulates the side to side motion of passing bags of firestone." Once he's taken the hides, she stands in front of him, feet evenly spaced, hands on her hips. "A simple twist from side to side like this," and she demonstrates, "will loosen the particular muscles needed. I'm not talking a long time, about ten to fifteen from both sides, and that's about it."
E'sere watches Vanya intently, bobbing his head slowly as she demonstrates and he glances from her to the hides. "I see. That sounds simple enough. Ten to fifteen, each side. That's all there is to it?" Nothing personal, all business still, as though they were still out in the living cavern in front of the Weyr.
"Pretty much. I'd also recommend a few bending movements, too, but that's simple. I noted a few of the riders already do those. And, the jogging warms up the leg muscles, of course. This is all in theory, so if you and your wing are willing to try this experiment, then tell me if it does make the drill easier, I'll know more." She stops, wincing a little, and placing a hand at her back. "If it works, I'd like to present it to other wingleaders, though I've only talked to you and Br'ce about it so far. Eventually, I might speak to the Weyrlingmaster regarding integrating this into weyrling training. He seemed willing to let me visit the compound and observe them. But I don't want to ... push anything. I'll have to see how receptive he is to me, first."
"Oh, I'm sure he'll be extremely receptive," E'sere notes absently on the subject of R'vain. "He usually is." A pause. "I'll try it out tomorrow; it seems like it's worth a try, anyway. Thank you."
"No, thank /you/, E'sere," Vanya says, giving him an odd look. "I hope it does help, and I'm willing to talk to your wing if they're uncertain." She pauses, her brow creased a little. "Have I done something wrong?" she asks, finally. "Something to upset you?" Her hands lower from her hips to hang loosely at her sides. "I know we talked of discretion, but ... I get the feeling I've somehow ..." The words trail into silence.
E'sere, still with that distracted expression, nods toward Vanya and is silent, thoughtful--until her latter question. Blinking, brows furrowing, he looks up at her and frowns. "I--I'm sorry," he tells her after a moment, still subdued. "It's not you. It's--well. Everything, really. But I'm fine; don't worry about me."
"You know I can't do that," Vanya says, moving to stand next to the bed. "I can't help but worry about you, E'sere. When you come in with a bruised face after some rider hit you, and I know how you feel about ... about what's going on. You told me what happened with your mother and your cousin. I can't just ... I'm not able to just ignore this." She once more places a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not trying to push, but I can't help but think you're troubled by this new development."
E'sere's eyes cut sideways to her hand on his shoulder, the rider's lips pursing. "I know," he agrees. "I just... I can't explain it. I'm sorry. It's not something that I can just put into words like that. It's too--it's too--I'm sorry."
Vanya nods, her hand gently squeezing that shoulder. "Too personal?" she offers, smiling. "I can understand that, E'sere. Before recently, I couldn't put a lot of my feelings into words, either. There's something about you and some others here have taught me to open up a bit -- well, a /lot/ more than I ever have before." She moves now to sit beside him, close enough he knows he's not alone, yet far enough away he's not crowded. "Just try to not let things get to you, please. Don't let frustration make you reckless. Not now. You're so close to getting everything you want."
"I'm sorry," E'sere repeats again. "I'm... I'm okay. Really. I just... need some time to sort things out in my head." He lifts his shoulders slightly, still frowning, eyes on the far wall again. "Mother... Mother would have me be Weyrleader to Roa. Not Sinopa."
Vanya listens, making no comment for several moments. "You don't have to apologize to me, E'sere, really you don't." She pauses, pursing her lips. "I don't know either Roa or Sinopa, so you'll have to explain why there would be a difference. Surely, if Morelenth flies the gold of either rider, you would still be Weyrleader, and that's the important thing." She pauses again. "Is it that you don't like this Roa? Or don't trust her to be a partner to you? I wish I were better informed, but I'm not."
"It's that--it's that she's /Mother's/," E'sere says, glancing around with widening eyes. "And S'lien's. They're doing just like Ganathon, bringing foreigners in to run our Weyr. And they're not doing this out of the goodness of their hearts, either--you don't know them. They're sharks, both of them--especially S'lien. He's always controlled Mother, and together, they're going to control Roa and this Weyr. It doesn't matter what /I/ do, win or lose or... anything. It doesn't matter."
Vanya's brow creases again, and she begins to understand now. "I see..." Yes, she actually does see. Vanya is very quiet for a long time. "When I was growing up, I had a dream, too. I wanted to be a Harper. But my mother had decided I was to become a healer." She speaks very softly. "I hated it because I didn't have a choice in the matter. In my own life, no choice but to be what /she/ wanted me to be." She takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "It wasn't until Master Simbum gave us an assignment that I learned I could take her dream and make it my own. So I did. I became a healer, but /my/ kind of healer. I know this is much different, but you can do it, too, E'sere. You can do what your mother wishes, but you can do it /your/ way. You are smart, and far more clever than I am. You can be very persuasive and diplomatic. I believe in you, E'sere. So do others. Take what they offer, but take it on your terms. You're strong enough. I know you are."
"Yes," E'sere agrees quietly, slowly. He nods once, glancing to Vanya again, offering her a half-smile. "I should go," he tells her then. "I can't stay. But--thank you."
"If you need to go, yes, but you know you're welcome to visit any time," Vanya says, nodding. "E'sere ... you're a good man, and I can't help but think you can persuade this Roa to help you, not to let your mother pull the strings. I can't see how, if she gets to know you, how she can't see you're the best one to lead this weyr. Even those who may not like you must see that." She rises, smiling down at him. "Make their dream for you your own, E'sere. I'll be back here in the shadows cheering you on, supporting you however I can. Please believe that." She holds her hand out to help him stand. "Just believe in yourself half as much as I believe in you, and it will happen."
E'sere takes Vanya's hand, though he doesn't put any weight on it as he stands. When he straightens, he casts her a quick smile and leans forward to press a brief kiss to her lips, then steps back again. "Thank you. Good night, Vanya," he murmurs before he turns to slip out again, taking the hides as he does so.
"Rest well, E'sere," Vanya says, watching him as he leaves. "Trust in yourself. Just ... trust in yourself." And she lifts a hand to bid him good night as the door closes behind him.