LOG: Even if we have to lie and cheat
Date: Day 4, Month 3, Turn 26
Location: Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr
Synopsis: Tom has the answers to Rhaelyn's woes.
Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr
Massive in scale, the Weyr's main storage passage connects to the kitchen on one end and the outbound tunnel on the other. Large enough to admit a wagon laden with goods, the tunnel easily permits the unloading and organization of supplies into the various storerooms.
Branching off from this corridor are multiple caverns, the nearer two being 'open' stores from which residents can readily help themselves, while the deeper stores are kept locked up tight with a posted sign and inventory hung on a hook outside of each. An alcove next to the public stores serves as a catch-all area for reshelving items whose destination is uncertain; two sets of stone shelving and several bins hold these items neatly until a stores assistant has a moment to deal with them.
Though the storage caverns vary in size, shape, and the smoothness of their walls, all belong to the same system: whitewashed walls, swept floors, and most importantly, neatly labeled and inventoried shelves providing ample space to stow all the supplies a busy Weyr needs. Though there's no direct internal lighting, a glowbasket may be brought in from the niche outsde each cavern, the better to ward off pests and the inky dark of deep caves.
Late into the night means that most normal weyr-folks have gone to their private quarters or bars to enjoy the small hours of the night. That means the Store rooms are vacant and this is where Rhaelyn has decided to park herself. Alone in the room, she sits atop one of the crates as she goes through the items. By the mess around her, she has been at this activity for many hours. She's set up so that she can see the door but may not be seen right away, thus giving herself a chance to vanish and avoid any unwelcome visitor.
Tomaeran's approach is obvious long before he actually gets to the door: he's not really very quiet. Exactly what his purpose in being down here is, given the time of day and more to the point, the fact that he's not exactly the type to come hunting for things on his own, is hard to know. But there he is, meandering towards the door, not visibly looking for anyone or anything. Or maybe that's just a front.
Rhaelyn's head lifts from an ugly shirt she pulled from the crate and she peers around the box that makes up her 'fort' to see who is coming. Her expression is cold, her eyes hard for a momoent until it turns out to be Tomaeran. For now she stays silent and unmoving, spying on her fellow exile. For all the attempt at being quiet, that mess in her corner of the store room can't go unnoticed forever. Right?
Tomaeran gives a scuffing kick to one of the sets of shelves, heedless of the fact that a few boxes wobble precariously - and the fact that the whole thing groans. His expression is a hard line; unhappy. Even in that unhappiness, however, he's not completely obvious: turning away from that shelf, his attention falls towards Rhaelyn's little mess, and his gaze narrows. He steps closer, aiming a kick towards a pile of clothes before /something/ makes him pause; he peers through the half dark, hesitating.
A soft, frustrated sigh puffs from Rhae. It's a sure give away and knowing it as such, the girl pushes to her feet and comes out from behind the barricade with arms crossed across her chest. Sharp eyes meet Tom, her expression stony as she thrusts out her chin. "Good evening. What are you doing here?" Like he's invading her personal rooms.
Rhaelyn. Tom's expression curves into something less angry, more-- something else. Amusement? Fondness? Relief? Perhaps it's a bit of all three. "Came for a wander," he explains, with a low shrug that could mean anything. "It seems to me, if a person wants the really nice clothes for spring and summer, he ought to start looking before it gets warm." It could just as easily be an excuse. "What are /you/ doing here? Hiding?" A beat, and then-- "Fishbones, look at your face."
Rhaelyn's strong chin quavers when she witnesses the trio of emotions on Tom's face. "Tommy!" Nevermind what he says, or that he's pointing out the meatloaf that has become fo her face. The walls come crashing down and suddenly she's flung herself haphazardly across the room to throw herself on the poor man. Oh such a display from the icy-bitch has /got/ to be more unusual than her bruises.
That... was not what Tom expected, clearly, but with an attractive (albeit less so in the facial region, for now) girl launching herself at him, really, there's only one thing he's likely to do: he puts his arms around her, pressing her close to his chest. "Hey, Rhae," he says, then, making up for his earlier lack of greeting. "You-- are you okay? What happened? /Fishbrains/. Who did that to you? I'll-- we'll make them pay, I swear it."
Poor Tomaeran's shirt is getting a drenching from Rhae's wretched tears. There's a stretch or awful crying where talking is completely out of the question. The fit is thankfully short lived as these emotional outbusts go. When she draws back to wipe the back of her hand over her cheeks she answers, "Ri....that horrible girl-lover....I hate this place. I hate it all! I want...I want to go home." The broken tone, choked and helpless. Such ugly things for Rhae....weakness. Yuck.
"Riorde?" Tom picks up that much, even if the rest is mostly a mystery to him. Being cried on is... not really one of his strong points: despite the fact that his arms are around here, he's really just standing there, waiting for her to be done before he can react to something more concrete. "This /is/ home, Rhae - we can't go back to the island. But we'll make it better here... you'll see! And Riorde and all those other stupid people can go die in a fire or something. Freeze in the lake. Get eaten by dragons. They don't /matter/." Beat. "And the stupid weyr people, too."
"Riorde." Rhaelyn echoes, growling out her name. "And she threatened me. That she's going to do something else to me." It may not happen, but the idea that her life is in danger does weigh heavily on her mind. Remaining in the circle of his arm, she fixes her eyes on his chest and then looks up when he speaks of making things better. "I...I don't see how. Everyone is against me. Everyone."
"I'm not." Tom's surprisingly firm about that - and his arm is, too, for that matter. "I won't let them hurt you; not again. Frankly, I ought to go smack some sense into her right now... or does she look as bad as you do already? I hope you gave her as good as you got. It's-- it's going to be okay. There's that queen egg, remember? You're going to Impress it, and I'm going to get myself a bronze, and then we'll rule this place." His confidence hasn't been shaken, though he adds, "Even if they won't let me go and look at the egg I'm going to Impress."
A small headshake answers Tomaeran's question, "I did mess her up a -bit-. Not nearly as much as that hussy deserves." Rhaelyn adds with her usual haughty tone, "I am a -girl-. I don't know how to fight like some brutish boy." She puts her cheek to his chest, taking advantage of his support and while the reminder of their plan should bring her back to herself, her shoulder sag instead. "I....don't think they will let me on the sands again. Not after Ri threw me onto that egg.....It's /all/ her fault."
A firm nod confirms Rhaelyn's words: girls shouldn't fight like that. /Real/ girls shouldn't. His expression wavers, however, at her last admission. "She-- /what/?" Silence for a moment. Silence as, presumably, he works the implications of this through in his mind. "So that's why we're not allowed to look at the eggs. Because of /her/. Well." His mouth draws together; he frowns. Finally, he shakes his head. "Oh, no. We're going to get you onto those sands, Rhae. Even if we have to lie and cheat to do so. We just have to stay quiet about it until they hatch, right? And then... walk on with all the others." Easy!
"She almost broke it wide open. It was....it was soft and rubbery." Rhaelyn shudders at the memory of the squishy-egg. "I hope....I hope she gets that one. Some damaged dragon. It would serve her right." There's no ownership of her own part in that little scuffle, but she's the one with the busted nose. His plan though? It makes her draw back enough to meet his gaze, her own hopeful enough that some of that old fire comes back into her eyes. "Oh yes! There /is/ hope still. I thought...the whole plan had been ruined."
"I hope she doesn't get one at all," is Tom's thought on the matter. "Anyway, if they won't let you stand, officially, then they won't let her, either. But /we/ will manage to be sneaky, anyway." The idea of which seems to please him a great deal, particularly given Rhaelyn's reaction to his cleverness: go Tom! Smart Tom! Useful Tom! "No way. There's /no way/ I'm going onto those sands without you to be my goldrider. This way will totally work. Anyway: it's more subtle. No one will know it's coming until... /bam/. There we are. In charge." His eyes gleam; his expression is utterly smug.
Rhaelyn's lips quirk up at one side, "That's /right/." Relief that Ri won't be as crafty and with Tom beside her, how can she go wrong. She reaches up to cup his sheek with her hand. "That is a much /much/ better idea. The last few days...oh Tom, things have just been falling appart. I didn't get accepted into the stupid Harper craft and then E'dre lied to me and did /not/ take me to Eesta and then the girl-loving brownrider called me a slut and then Ri got me in trouble and just today Elgin's horrible girlfriend spent the whole morning insulting me." She shakes with anger at the list of wrongs that have been stacking one by one on her shoulders. "I don't know how much more I can take. They will pay. All of them will pay when we are in charge."
Tomaeran draws one hand away from Rhaelyn's waist in order to press it atop her hand on his cheek. "They'll /all/ pay," he confirms, fervently. "All of them. E'dre and the harpers and the brownrider and Riorde and all of them. I swear it." He can't know which brownrider she means, and aside from Emmeline, he's probably spent very little time with harpers of any kind - but that is totally not the point here, clearly. Squeezing her gently with the hand still wrapped around her, he promises, "It's going to be fine, I promise. They may have the upper hand now, but that doesn't mean they always will. Because we're smart, and we're attractive, and we know what we want - and we're going to get it."
Rhaelyn smiles winningly at Tomaeran for his reasurance and confidence, "I should have known you would have the answer." Even if the answer is 'kill them all'. Her fingers squeeze around his as she cuddles in against him. "So..." Fortified against her earlier depression she can turn her mind to other things. "What are you doing up so late? Are you -really- looking for summer clothes?"
Lucky Tom: even with her face the way it is, there's definitely something pretty satisfying about having a pretty girl cuddle against him. "I'm /always/ the answer," he tells her, sounding as though he believes it. Sounds... like Tom. "No," he admits, wryly. "Not really. I mean, it's probably a good idea? But mostly, I wanted to get away from some of those stupid weyrkids who are living in the dorms, now. All they can talk about is how amazing it will be if they Impress, and how their mother was a bluerider, as though that should be something they're /proud/ of. They were sitting up talking, not far from me, and it was beginning to drive me crazy. Idiots. I'm beginning to think I should find someplace else to sleep. Unofficially."
Rhaelyn gives one more caress of Tom's cheek and another hug against him before drawing back, but she does try to snag his hand and draw him back to the corner she has been messingup. "Horrible. And to think, it's been less than a sevenday. How much longer of 'that'? Or the know-it-alls who are more than happy to explain the how and why of the hatchings. Do you know," she mimics one of the goodie-goodies, "You can't tell what color dragon is in the egg just by the shell color." Rhae makes a gagging sound. "Everyone is an expert. But none of them call tell me how to make sure I get the Gold." Weak.
Tomaeran lets the arm that's been slung around Rhaelyn drop back to his side, and lets her take his hand, too, following towards her little 'fort' a the back. "It could be months, from what I've been hearing," he bemoans, rolling his eyes. "I swear, they think they're so special, so amazing. Do you think there /is/ a trick to making sure you Impress? Maybe if you think really positive thoughts, or imagine yourself flying with that dragon, that would help?" Beat. "Actually, it probably doesn't even matter. They'll know, surely." Just... know.
"Well, if there is a trick to it." Rhaelyn says as she climbs up onto the crate that had aforded her such comfort earlier. "They," Dragonriders, "Aren't sharing it with non-dragonriders. Have you met that 'Son of M'bev'? Why, he has like five generations of dragonriders and has stood three times already. Whatever you do, don't let him corner you. He'll chatter your ear off." Or else, he was just cornering Rhae because she had boobs, scrawny as they may be.
Tomaeran pulls up another crate, dragging it into position diagonally opposite to Rhaelyn's so that he can give her his full attention without their knees colliding too much. "That surprises me," he admits. "That someone with that kind of lineage wouldn't have gotten a dragon already. Wouldn't you think they'd share it with their own children?" He shakes his head, expression drawing in to thoughtfulness as he adds, "I think I've met that one. Only in passing, though: he only seems to be interested in you girls. Which - I hasten to add - is perfectly fine by me. I think some of the others resent us being in their dorms. Like we're not special enough."
A soft laugh follows as she admits, "I don't know his name...only 'Son of M'bev." Spoken in that nasal whine of the young man. "Maybe you have a point," She admits it but adds, "But what good is it if you can't plan things? You have to hope the dragons pick the right people and not some dimwits?" Such a luck of chance doesn't sit well with Rhae, particularly when her own plan, crush as it almost was, hinges on just that thing. "Of course they resent us. -We- are going to take what we deserve and disapoint them when they are left on the sands with nothing."
"You just have to be confident," is Tom's view on things. "They're probably attracted to that. I mean - have you seen anything of the Weyrwomen around here? They come across... pretty confidently. Which makes sense, in leaders, right? So you just need to make sure the dragons can see that." Failure doesn't seem to have crossed Tom's mind at this point - not even the faintest possibility of it. Also; "We are. And maybe we'll decide they can't even have another go. I mean... after a few times, surely people ought to realise that it just isn't going to happen for them. If they were any good, they'd've been taken their first time."
"Confident. That's right." Rhaelyn sounds pleased and lifts her chin as she admits guiltily, "I felt so confident about my," A pause as she flashes a look up through her lashes, "Our plan, until they told us we'd not be allowed to stand. I feel much better now." She draws out a scarf that she has in a pile beside her and loops it around Tom's neck playfully. "When I'm in charge, I will only allow three times to stand. After that, they should get to work and not waste time on such nonsense. Who needs more than three times? My goodness."
Smugness presents itself upon Tom's expression as she amends her statement to 'our'. Much better. The scarf, however, gets given a dubious glance before he fixes it - and then strikes a pose. "How do I look? Mm, three times seems plenty to me. It seems like a person would end up just waiting around for the next time, and not actually getting on with life. We're not /all/ the right kind of person, clearly. Some people need to just accept that and move on. Anyway: Rhae, next time you're worried about something like that, you need to come and talk to me, so that we can work it out."
Rhaelyn smiles, "You look dashing." Rhaelyn watches the posing with pleasure, her pale eyes looking sharper than usual with the rings of dark smudges around them. "Thank you Tom. You are the only person I can talk to about these things. No one else understands." The lingering effects of her depression haunt her expression as she falls silent, gritting her teeth, "I didn't want to bother you."
Dashing seems to be an appropriate description, because Tomaeran looks pleased and smug for its receipt. "You can always bother me, Rhaelyn. How else are we going to manage to get what we want? I'm happy to help." It's surprisingly genuine, coming from the arrogant young man, for all that his motives are no doubt at least partially self-serving. "Do you think they'll have stopped talking and gone to sleep by now?"
Rhaelyn's expression tells that she knows Tomaeran's purpose is for his advancement, but the wink shares that she's just as selfish in her own way. Getting up, she reaches for his hand, "C'mon, lets go check. And if they're not sleeping, we can mock them until they take their chatter elsewhere?" Gotta practice that dual leadership right?
The wink makes Tom grin. These two... at least they know each other. He accepts her hand, twining his fingers around hers as he draws himself to his feet to follow. "That," he says, firmly, leaving the scarf in place and the mess behind them, "sounds like an /excellent/ idea. Lead on, Rhae."
Location: Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr
Synopsis: Tom has the answers to Rhaelyn's woes.
Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr
Massive in scale, the Weyr's main storage passage connects to the kitchen on one end and the outbound tunnel on the other. Large enough to admit a wagon laden with goods, the tunnel easily permits the unloading and organization of supplies into the various storerooms.
Branching off from this corridor are multiple caverns, the nearer two being 'open' stores from which residents can readily help themselves, while the deeper stores are kept locked up tight with a posted sign and inventory hung on a hook outside of each. An alcove next to the public stores serves as a catch-all area for reshelving items whose destination is uncertain; two sets of stone shelving and several bins hold these items neatly until a stores assistant has a moment to deal with them.
Though the storage caverns vary in size, shape, and the smoothness of their walls, all belong to the same system: whitewashed walls, swept floors, and most importantly, neatly labeled and inventoried shelves providing ample space to stow all the supplies a busy Weyr needs. Though there's no direct internal lighting, a glowbasket may be brought in from the niche outsde each cavern, the better to ward off pests and the inky dark of deep caves.
Late into the night means that most normal weyr-folks have gone to their private quarters or bars to enjoy the small hours of the night. That means the Store rooms are vacant and this is where Rhaelyn has decided to park herself. Alone in the room, she sits atop one of the crates as she goes through the items. By the mess around her, she has been at this activity for many hours. She's set up so that she can see the door but may not be seen right away, thus giving herself a chance to vanish and avoid any unwelcome visitor.
Tomaeran's approach is obvious long before he actually gets to the door: he's not really very quiet. Exactly what his purpose in being down here is, given the time of day and more to the point, the fact that he's not exactly the type to come hunting for things on his own, is hard to know. But there he is, meandering towards the door, not visibly looking for anyone or anything. Or maybe that's just a front.
Rhaelyn's head lifts from an ugly shirt she pulled from the crate and she peers around the box that makes up her 'fort' to see who is coming. Her expression is cold, her eyes hard for a momoent until it turns out to be Tomaeran. For now she stays silent and unmoving, spying on her fellow exile. For all the attempt at being quiet, that mess in her corner of the store room can't go unnoticed forever. Right?
Tomaeran gives a scuffing kick to one of the sets of shelves, heedless of the fact that a few boxes wobble precariously - and the fact that the whole thing groans. His expression is a hard line; unhappy. Even in that unhappiness, however, he's not completely obvious: turning away from that shelf, his attention falls towards Rhaelyn's little mess, and his gaze narrows. He steps closer, aiming a kick towards a pile of clothes before /something/ makes him pause; he peers through the half dark, hesitating.
A soft, frustrated sigh puffs from Rhae. It's a sure give away and knowing it as such, the girl pushes to her feet and comes out from behind the barricade with arms crossed across her chest. Sharp eyes meet Tom, her expression stony as she thrusts out her chin. "Good evening. What are you doing here?" Like he's invading her personal rooms.
Rhaelyn. Tom's expression curves into something less angry, more-- something else. Amusement? Fondness? Relief? Perhaps it's a bit of all three. "Came for a wander," he explains, with a low shrug that could mean anything. "It seems to me, if a person wants the really nice clothes for spring and summer, he ought to start looking before it gets warm." It could just as easily be an excuse. "What are /you/ doing here? Hiding?" A beat, and then-- "Fishbones, look at your face."
Rhaelyn's strong chin quavers when she witnesses the trio of emotions on Tom's face. "Tommy!" Nevermind what he says, or that he's pointing out the meatloaf that has become fo her face. The walls come crashing down and suddenly she's flung herself haphazardly across the room to throw herself on the poor man. Oh such a display from the icy-bitch has /got/ to be more unusual than her bruises.
That... was not what Tom expected, clearly, but with an attractive (albeit less so in the facial region, for now) girl launching herself at him, really, there's only one thing he's likely to do: he puts his arms around her, pressing her close to his chest. "Hey, Rhae," he says, then, making up for his earlier lack of greeting. "You-- are you okay? What happened? /Fishbrains/. Who did that to you? I'll-- we'll make them pay, I swear it."
Poor Tomaeran's shirt is getting a drenching from Rhae's wretched tears. There's a stretch or awful crying where talking is completely out of the question. The fit is thankfully short lived as these emotional outbusts go. When she draws back to wipe the back of her hand over her cheeks she answers, "Ri....that horrible girl-lover....I hate this place. I hate it all! I want...I want to go home." The broken tone, choked and helpless. Such ugly things for Rhae....weakness. Yuck.
"Riorde?" Tom picks up that much, even if the rest is mostly a mystery to him. Being cried on is... not really one of his strong points: despite the fact that his arms are around here, he's really just standing there, waiting for her to be done before he can react to something more concrete. "This /is/ home, Rhae - we can't go back to the island. But we'll make it better here... you'll see! And Riorde and all those other stupid people can go die in a fire or something. Freeze in the lake. Get eaten by dragons. They don't /matter/." Beat. "And the stupid weyr people, too."
"Riorde." Rhaelyn echoes, growling out her name. "And she threatened me. That she's going to do something else to me." It may not happen, but the idea that her life is in danger does weigh heavily on her mind. Remaining in the circle of his arm, she fixes her eyes on his chest and then looks up when he speaks of making things better. "I...I don't see how. Everyone is against me. Everyone."
"I'm not." Tom's surprisingly firm about that - and his arm is, too, for that matter. "I won't let them hurt you; not again. Frankly, I ought to go smack some sense into her right now... or does she look as bad as you do already? I hope you gave her as good as you got. It's-- it's going to be okay. There's that queen egg, remember? You're going to Impress it, and I'm going to get myself a bronze, and then we'll rule this place." His confidence hasn't been shaken, though he adds, "Even if they won't let me go and look at the egg I'm going to Impress."
A small headshake answers Tomaeran's question, "I did mess her up a -bit-. Not nearly as much as that hussy deserves." Rhaelyn adds with her usual haughty tone, "I am a -girl-. I don't know how to fight like some brutish boy." She puts her cheek to his chest, taking advantage of his support and while the reminder of their plan should bring her back to herself, her shoulder sag instead. "I....don't think they will let me on the sands again. Not after Ri threw me onto that egg.....It's /all/ her fault."
A firm nod confirms Rhaelyn's words: girls shouldn't fight like that. /Real/ girls shouldn't. His expression wavers, however, at her last admission. "She-- /what/?" Silence for a moment. Silence as, presumably, he works the implications of this through in his mind. "So that's why we're not allowed to look at the eggs. Because of /her/. Well." His mouth draws together; he frowns. Finally, he shakes his head. "Oh, no. We're going to get you onto those sands, Rhae. Even if we have to lie and cheat to do so. We just have to stay quiet about it until they hatch, right? And then... walk on with all the others." Easy!
"She almost broke it wide open. It was....it was soft and rubbery." Rhaelyn shudders at the memory of the squishy-egg. "I hope....I hope she gets that one. Some damaged dragon. It would serve her right." There's no ownership of her own part in that little scuffle, but she's the one with the busted nose. His plan though? It makes her draw back enough to meet his gaze, her own hopeful enough that some of that old fire comes back into her eyes. "Oh yes! There /is/ hope still. I thought...the whole plan had been ruined."
"I hope she doesn't get one at all," is Tom's thought on the matter. "Anyway, if they won't let you stand, officially, then they won't let her, either. But /we/ will manage to be sneaky, anyway." The idea of which seems to please him a great deal, particularly given Rhaelyn's reaction to his cleverness: go Tom! Smart Tom! Useful Tom! "No way. There's /no way/ I'm going onto those sands without you to be my goldrider. This way will totally work. Anyway: it's more subtle. No one will know it's coming until... /bam/. There we are. In charge." His eyes gleam; his expression is utterly smug.
Rhaelyn's lips quirk up at one side, "That's /right/." Relief that Ri won't be as crafty and with Tom beside her, how can she go wrong. She reaches up to cup his sheek with her hand. "That is a much /much/ better idea. The last few days...oh Tom, things have just been falling appart. I didn't get accepted into the stupid Harper craft and then E'dre lied to me and did /not/ take me to Eesta and then the girl-loving brownrider called me a slut and then Ri got me in trouble and just today Elgin's horrible girlfriend spent the whole morning insulting me." She shakes with anger at the list of wrongs that have been stacking one by one on her shoulders. "I don't know how much more I can take. They will pay. All of them will pay when we are in charge."
Tomaeran draws one hand away from Rhaelyn's waist in order to press it atop her hand on his cheek. "They'll /all/ pay," he confirms, fervently. "All of them. E'dre and the harpers and the brownrider and Riorde and all of them. I swear it." He can't know which brownrider she means, and aside from Emmeline, he's probably spent very little time with harpers of any kind - but that is totally not the point here, clearly. Squeezing her gently with the hand still wrapped around her, he promises, "It's going to be fine, I promise. They may have the upper hand now, but that doesn't mean they always will. Because we're smart, and we're attractive, and we know what we want - and we're going to get it."
Rhaelyn smiles winningly at Tomaeran for his reasurance and confidence, "I should have known you would have the answer." Even if the answer is 'kill them all'. Her fingers squeeze around his as she cuddles in against him. "So..." Fortified against her earlier depression she can turn her mind to other things. "What are you doing up so late? Are you -really- looking for summer clothes?"
Lucky Tom: even with her face the way it is, there's definitely something pretty satisfying about having a pretty girl cuddle against him. "I'm /always/ the answer," he tells her, sounding as though he believes it. Sounds... like Tom. "No," he admits, wryly. "Not really. I mean, it's probably a good idea? But mostly, I wanted to get away from some of those stupid weyrkids who are living in the dorms, now. All they can talk about is how amazing it will be if they Impress, and how their mother was a bluerider, as though that should be something they're /proud/ of. They were sitting up talking, not far from me, and it was beginning to drive me crazy. Idiots. I'm beginning to think I should find someplace else to sleep. Unofficially."
Rhaelyn gives one more caress of Tom's cheek and another hug against him before drawing back, but she does try to snag his hand and draw him back to the corner she has been messingup. "Horrible. And to think, it's been less than a sevenday. How much longer of 'that'? Or the know-it-alls who are more than happy to explain the how and why of the hatchings. Do you know," she mimics one of the goodie-goodies, "You can't tell what color dragon is in the egg just by the shell color." Rhae makes a gagging sound. "Everyone is an expert. But none of them call tell me how to make sure I get the Gold." Weak.
Tomaeran lets the arm that's been slung around Rhaelyn drop back to his side, and lets her take his hand, too, following towards her little 'fort' a the back. "It could be months, from what I've been hearing," he bemoans, rolling his eyes. "I swear, they think they're so special, so amazing. Do you think there /is/ a trick to making sure you Impress? Maybe if you think really positive thoughts, or imagine yourself flying with that dragon, that would help?" Beat. "Actually, it probably doesn't even matter. They'll know, surely." Just... know.
"Well, if there is a trick to it." Rhaelyn says as she climbs up onto the crate that had aforded her such comfort earlier. "They," Dragonriders, "Aren't sharing it with non-dragonriders. Have you met that 'Son of M'bev'? Why, he has like five generations of dragonriders and has stood three times already. Whatever you do, don't let him corner you. He'll chatter your ear off." Or else, he was just cornering Rhae because she had boobs, scrawny as they may be.
Tomaeran pulls up another crate, dragging it into position diagonally opposite to Rhaelyn's so that he can give her his full attention without their knees colliding too much. "That surprises me," he admits. "That someone with that kind of lineage wouldn't have gotten a dragon already. Wouldn't you think they'd share it with their own children?" He shakes his head, expression drawing in to thoughtfulness as he adds, "I think I've met that one. Only in passing, though: he only seems to be interested in you girls. Which - I hasten to add - is perfectly fine by me. I think some of the others resent us being in their dorms. Like we're not special enough."
A soft laugh follows as she admits, "I don't know his name...only 'Son of M'bev." Spoken in that nasal whine of the young man. "Maybe you have a point," She admits it but adds, "But what good is it if you can't plan things? You have to hope the dragons pick the right people and not some dimwits?" Such a luck of chance doesn't sit well with Rhae, particularly when her own plan, crush as it almost was, hinges on just that thing. "Of course they resent us. -We- are going to take what we deserve and disapoint them when they are left on the sands with nothing."
"You just have to be confident," is Tom's view on things. "They're probably attracted to that. I mean - have you seen anything of the Weyrwomen around here? They come across... pretty confidently. Which makes sense, in leaders, right? So you just need to make sure the dragons can see that." Failure doesn't seem to have crossed Tom's mind at this point - not even the faintest possibility of it. Also; "We are. And maybe we'll decide they can't even have another go. I mean... after a few times, surely people ought to realise that it just isn't going to happen for them. If they were any good, they'd've been taken their first time."
"Confident. That's right." Rhaelyn sounds pleased and lifts her chin as she admits guiltily, "I felt so confident about my," A pause as she flashes a look up through her lashes, "Our plan, until they told us we'd not be allowed to stand. I feel much better now." She draws out a scarf that she has in a pile beside her and loops it around Tom's neck playfully. "When I'm in charge, I will only allow three times to stand. After that, they should get to work and not waste time on such nonsense. Who needs more than three times? My goodness."
Smugness presents itself upon Tom's expression as she amends her statement to 'our'. Much better. The scarf, however, gets given a dubious glance before he fixes it - and then strikes a pose. "How do I look? Mm, three times seems plenty to me. It seems like a person would end up just waiting around for the next time, and not actually getting on with life. We're not /all/ the right kind of person, clearly. Some people need to just accept that and move on. Anyway: Rhae, next time you're worried about something like that, you need to come and talk to me, so that we can work it out."
Rhaelyn smiles, "You look dashing." Rhaelyn watches the posing with pleasure, her pale eyes looking sharper than usual with the rings of dark smudges around them. "Thank you Tom. You are the only person I can talk to about these things. No one else understands." The lingering effects of her depression haunt her expression as she falls silent, gritting her teeth, "I didn't want to bother you."
Dashing seems to be an appropriate description, because Tomaeran looks pleased and smug for its receipt. "You can always bother me, Rhaelyn. How else are we going to manage to get what we want? I'm happy to help." It's surprisingly genuine, coming from the arrogant young man, for all that his motives are no doubt at least partially self-serving. "Do you think they'll have stopped talking and gone to sleep by now?"
Rhaelyn's expression tells that she knows Tomaeran's purpose is for his advancement, but the wink shares that she's just as selfish in her own way. Getting up, she reaches for his hand, "C'mon, lets go check. And if they're not sleeping, we can mock them until they take their chatter elsewhere?" Gotta practice that dual leadership right?
The wink makes Tom grin. These two... at least they know each other. He accepts her hand, twining his fingers around hers as he draws himself to his feet to follow. "That," he says, firmly, leaving the scarf in place and the mess behind them, "sounds like an /excellent/ idea. Lead on, Rhae."