Transfer
Winter is, in it slow and grudging way at High Reaches, slowly giving over to spring. Snow has become slush that gets weighed down with chilly rain and becomes grey and mucky. The wings of dragons boasts slightly swelled ranks, thanks to new arrivals that not everyone is delighted to have, and the other Weyrs seem to essentially be stuffing their fingers in their ears and singing loudly whenever High reaches gets mentioned.
It's a great day.
In the weyrwoman's weyr, a small domestic scene. Jashin, four months old and experimenting with keeping his head lifted while on his stomach, is busy staring at some sort of wooden toy on wheels while Tialith is busy staring at him. Roa is staring at hidework and Ashwin is absent.
One of those not delighted would be Issa, who was more than a little distraught at the news that the Instigators were returning so soon after the death of a beloved goldrider, so soon after she swore off having anything to do with them. And though she left Roa's weyr that day with less than her usual composure, apologies have been imparted and the ice has been broken again. Still, things are a little awkward, as that greenrider returns to the Weyrwoman's quarters, Oshisyth sinking down onto the ledge and delivering her rider, who enters a moment later. Her greeting smile is a tad thin and there's a hanging second before she says, "Hey." Then her eyes wander across to Tialith and, a respectful nod later, to Jashin. "How's he doing?"
The weyrwoman looks over, though the gold keeps her attention where it is. Oshisyth is sent a mental welcome that's a bit distracted, but cheerful. Jashin kicks out his legs in a slow and deliberate motion and finds this makes him rock forward. Bending his legs again? Back. Huh. Roa smiles faintly, almost shyly, as Issa moves into the room. "Hi," she offers softly. "He's well. How's Asha?"
Issa steps further in, comfortable with her surroundings if not completely with one of the occupants. Her manner warms at the mention of her own daughter, though, arms uncrossing and falling casually to her pockets. "She's great," she answers with a nod and a stronger smile. "Laughs a lot now. Reyce can't get enough of her." She grows more comfortable by degrees, but not enough to avoid the slightly awkward pause that follows. "She's kind of why I've come by, actually," she says, shrugging and meeting Roa's eye.
"I think he used to be worried," the weyrwoman muses, "that he wouldn't be able to like her. Or wouldn't care, maybe. I wonder what he'll do when she's old enough to think about boys." Roa smiles faintly at that before inching her chair back and turning to regard Issa more fully. She doesn't ask. Not with words. But Roa's brows lift and she waits.
Issa lets out a soft laugh at the thought of Reyce protecting Asha from a hoard of adoring boys, but sobers rather quickly, other thoughts crowding her mind. "Well, we've decided," she prefaces slowly, continuing after a short glance toward Jashin's crib, "that... we think it's too dangerous to raise her here." Her eyes want to fall to the ground, but after a brief dip she forces them back up to meet Roa's. "I came to ask if you could find a Weyr that would take a transfer," she concludes, leaving it implied that the transfer in question would be her.
Roa follows Issa's gaze over to the crib, though it stays there a bit longer than the greenrider. After several long blinks, she looks back, her face blank. "Oh," she murmurs. "I see. Well," the weyrwoman's fingers tap lightly against the desk, "I'll see what can be done. Benden, preferably, I presume?"
Issa lets out a slow breath at Roa's response, her eye contact wandering for only the second it takes to notice the tapping fingers. "Yeah," she utters softly at the tail end of that lengthened sigh. "Benden." Her own hands dig deeper into her pockets. "I'm sorry. I know it seems like I'm just... running away. But I'm done with them, Roa," she says, her voice firming with a note of determination. "I won't get behind them any more. I can't. I know it's a mess, but I'm not going to be much help in fixing it constructively, anyway." A weary-looking shrug lifts at the end, rounding it all off.
The weyrwoman only blinks slowly. She lets Issa have her say and then looks over at her desk and draws up a piece of blank parchment, dipping her quill into the ink jar. "I'll write to Benden first, then," is all she says.
"Roa," Issa breathes out, "don't brush me off like that. It has nothing to do with you. I... If I thought there were still a way for me to... to help, I'd consider staying. You have no idea how hard," and here she breaks, forcing out a sharp breath as she drops her gaze to the floor. "It's going to be," she continues on, composure salvaged and eye contact returned, "to leave everyone here. You, and the weyrlings, all my old wingriders..."
"Hard," the weyrwoman agrees. "Just not hard enough." Her lips twist into a smile that doesn't hold much cheer as she glances back at the other woman. "There are ways for you to help. You just don't want to help, any longer. You want to go somewhere else and keep Asha safe from the many threats that are suddenly all around her." Roa's own gaze returns to the little dark-haired infant kicking his feet under Tialith's watch.
Issa takes the correction without any sign of a smile, not even of the humorless variety. "She matters more now," she comments quietly, eyes remaining solid on Roa when the weyrwoman looks toward her son. "Wouldn't you, if you could?" she hazards to ask.
"It depends on which 'could' you mean," Roa says flatly. "The 'could' where I'm not tied to them? The one where I'm not tied to Reaches? If I thought he was in danger, I would even if I couldn't. She matters more? Or she's a good excuse?" She closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Never mind. I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I'll let you know when I heard from benden."
Issa's jaw clenches tightly at the insinuation that she's using Asha as an excuse and her gaze, far from fighting to stay up, meets Roa's firmly. A stiff little nod is given, thanks for the prompt response to her request, but after it she says coolly, "Say what you want. I don't want to leave with you angry at me, Roa, but I don't need your approval to do this."
"No. Just my signature." Roa pinches the bridge of her nose again. "Was that everything, Issa?"
"That's everything, Weyrwoman," Issa returns with a formality so stark it comes off as a near insult. "Thank you. For your time. For bothering. Clear skies." It may very well be the first time that Issa has saluted her, and if there were any time before, joking or no, it's so far in the past as to be negligible. The one she gives now is sharp and simple, dropped as soon as it's released. The weyrwoman has to last only a beat longer under her piercing blue gaze before the greenrider turns to walk in the direction of the ledge.
The weyrwoman waits until the greenrider has gone before shoving her paperwork away, pushing into a stand, and pacing around the perimeter of the room. F-" but she glances at the baby on the blanket and bites her bottom lip, instead. So it's Tialith that shakes her head a rumbles in bewildered sympathy and the litany that suddenly travels from her rider's head to her own.
It's a great day.
In the weyrwoman's weyr, a small domestic scene. Jashin, four months old and experimenting with keeping his head lifted while on his stomach, is busy staring at some sort of wooden toy on wheels while Tialith is busy staring at him. Roa is staring at hidework and Ashwin is absent.
One of those not delighted would be Issa, who was more than a little distraught at the news that the Instigators were returning so soon after the death of a beloved goldrider, so soon after she swore off having anything to do with them. And though she left Roa's weyr that day with less than her usual composure, apologies have been imparted and the ice has been broken again. Still, things are a little awkward, as that greenrider returns to the Weyrwoman's quarters, Oshisyth sinking down onto the ledge and delivering her rider, who enters a moment later. Her greeting smile is a tad thin and there's a hanging second before she says, "Hey." Then her eyes wander across to Tialith and, a respectful nod later, to Jashin. "How's he doing?"
The weyrwoman looks over, though the gold keeps her attention where it is. Oshisyth is sent a mental welcome that's a bit distracted, but cheerful. Jashin kicks out his legs in a slow and deliberate motion and finds this makes him rock forward. Bending his legs again? Back. Huh. Roa smiles faintly, almost shyly, as Issa moves into the room. "Hi," she offers softly. "He's well. How's Asha?"
Issa steps further in, comfortable with her surroundings if not completely with one of the occupants. Her manner warms at the mention of her own daughter, though, arms uncrossing and falling casually to her pockets. "She's great," she answers with a nod and a stronger smile. "Laughs a lot now. Reyce can't get enough of her." She grows more comfortable by degrees, but not enough to avoid the slightly awkward pause that follows. "She's kind of why I've come by, actually," she says, shrugging and meeting Roa's eye.
"I think he used to be worried," the weyrwoman muses, "that he wouldn't be able to like her. Or wouldn't care, maybe. I wonder what he'll do when she's old enough to think about boys." Roa smiles faintly at that before inching her chair back and turning to regard Issa more fully. She doesn't ask. Not with words. But Roa's brows lift and she waits.
Issa lets out a soft laugh at the thought of Reyce protecting Asha from a hoard of adoring boys, but sobers rather quickly, other thoughts crowding her mind. "Well, we've decided," she prefaces slowly, continuing after a short glance toward Jashin's crib, "that... we think it's too dangerous to raise her here." Her eyes want to fall to the ground, but after a brief dip she forces them back up to meet Roa's. "I came to ask if you could find a Weyr that would take a transfer," she concludes, leaving it implied that the transfer in question would be her.
Roa follows Issa's gaze over to the crib, though it stays there a bit longer than the greenrider. After several long blinks, she looks back, her face blank. "Oh," she murmurs. "I see. Well," the weyrwoman's fingers tap lightly against the desk, "I'll see what can be done. Benden, preferably, I presume?"
Issa lets out a slow breath at Roa's response, her eye contact wandering for only the second it takes to notice the tapping fingers. "Yeah," she utters softly at the tail end of that lengthened sigh. "Benden." Her own hands dig deeper into her pockets. "I'm sorry. I know it seems like I'm just... running away. But I'm done with them, Roa," she says, her voice firming with a note of determination. "I won't get behind them any more. I can't. I know it's a mess, but I'm not going to be much help in fixing it constructively, anyway." A weary-looking shrug lifts at the end, rounding it all off.
The weyrwoman only blinks slowly. She lets Issa have her say and then looks over at her desk and draws up a piece of blank parchment, dipping her quill into the ink jar. "I'll write to Benden first, then," is all she says.
"Roa," Issa breathes out, "don't brush me off like that. It has nothing to do with you. I... If I thought there were still a way for me to... to help, I'd consider staying. You have no idea how hard," and here she breaks, forcing out a sharp breath as she drops her gaze to the floor. "It's going to be," she continues on, composure salvaged and eye contact returned, "to leave everyone here. You, and the weyrlings, all my old wingriders..."
"Hard," the weyrwoman agrees. "Just not hard enough." Her lips twist into a smile that doesn't hold much cheer as she glances back at the other woman. "There are ways for you to help. You just don't want to help, any longer. You want to go somewhere else and keep Asha safe from the many threats that are suddenly all around her." Roa's own gaze returns to the little dark-haired infant kicking his feet under Tialith's watch.
Issa takes the correction without any sign of a smile, not even of the humorless variety. "She matters more now," she comments quietly, eyes remaining solid on Roa when the weyrwoman looks toward her son. "Wouldn't you, if you could?" she hazards to ask.
"It depends on which 'could' you mean," Roa says flatly. "The 'could' where I'm not tied to them? The one where I'm not tied to Reaches? If I thought he was in danger, I would even if I couldn't. She matters more? Or she's a good excuse?" She closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Never mind. I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I'll let you know when I heard from benden."
Issa's jaw clenches tightly at the insinuation that she's using Asha as an excuse and her gaze, far from fighting to stay up, meets Roa's firmly. A stiff little nod is given, thanks for the prompt response to her request, but after it she says coolly, "Say what you want. I don't want to leave with you angry at me, Roa, but I don't need your approval to do this."
"No. Just my signature." Roa pinches the bridge of her nose again. "Was that everything, Issa?"
"That's everything, Weyrwoman," Issa returns with a formality so stark it comes off as a near insult. "Thank you. For your time. For bothering. Clear skies." It may very well be the first time that Issa has saluted her, and if there were any time before, joking or no, it's so far in the past as to be negligible. The one she gives now is sharp and simple, dropped as soon as it's released. The weyrwoman has to last only a beat longer under her piercing blue gaze before the greenrider turns to walk in the direction of the ledge.
The weyrwoman waits until the greenrider has gone before shoving her paperwork away, pushing into a stand, and pacing around the perimeter of the room. F-" but she glances at the baby on the blanket and bites her bottom lip, instead. So it's Tialith that shakes her head a rumbles in bewildered sympathy and the litany that suddenly travels from her rider's head to her own.