Log: The Talk, Persie Style
RL: April 12, 2008. (Backdated)
VR: Day 20, month 12, Turn 15, of the Interval. It is a winter evening.
The day before the weyrling trip to Tillek, Persie and Leova have a talk. That talk.
Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr (#7315RIJ$)
Large with high ceilings, this cavern's most striking features are the little nooks and crannies along the perimeter and the seemingly dangerous jagged overhang of stalactites just above the hearth. More corners have been made from six, slightly curved walls with half-razed stone blocks rising from the ground as well as outcroppings of hollowed walls, making the layout cumbersome for a private dwelling, however decorative curtain rods and opaque fabrics have been installed to turn each defect in the cavern's shape into its own private corner.
Near the hearth, beneath the stone fixture hanging from the ceilings, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches have been set, the upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and even warmer hues of rich colors for winter. Small tables, fit for up to four people each, litter the landscape, while a wooden bar construction claims the wall where a dolly window to the kitchens is unlatched. The cabinetry installed has glass panels, so the various liquors available are visible.
Dinner is still some time away, but with evening falling earlier and earlier, the world is already turning dim and blue outside. But not in here. The Snowasis is toasty enough with a number of visitors clustered here and there, loitering until meal time. Persie is here too; a notable blonde head with a bright striped scarf still wrapped around her neck and her fur-lined jacket crammed behind her on her chair. She's got a small glass beside her, half empty of some amber liquid, and along with it some fabric, some thread and some shears. And it's really anyone's guess what she might be doing with them.
At least the weather looks to be fair for the Tillek trip tomorrow. Leova's working up to it, leaning against the bar and waiting for the man to finish spiking her mug of klah. And adding some of that whipped cream on top, too. Then again, if a weyrling isn't ready for the Hulk the day before, when will she be? Eventually Leova gets her drink and starts heading back towards the caverns when she makes her fatal decision. Apparently Secath's rider just hasn't been a horrible enough assistant weyrlingmaster, because when she sees her, Leova stops with a very pleased, "Persie!"
Persie's just picking up her scissor--likely bringing back terrifying memories for whatever weyrlings have seen such sights before--and spreading them open before she hears her name; it makes her stop and look around. "Oh Leova! Hey. Come have a seat." The blades wave the newer greenrider over to Persie's solitary table. "I," pause for emphasis. "Am making snowflakes. How are you?" And indeed she's got a chalk-drawn snowflake on that fabric in front of her and now, with her tongue poking out at the corner of her mouth, she starts to cut.
Leova helps herself, settling down with her mug where she can poke her finger in the klah and see if it's still too hot. Which leads to one of those bleepings N'thei is so fond of, which conveniently also answers Persie's question. "Hoping all the whipped cream doesn't melt too soon. Actually." Now she just helps herself to a fingerful of the stuff. Problem solved. "What are you going to do with them?" No fear of the scissors. At least, when they stay on that side of the table.
Persie's eyes watch the finger-testing, scan the status of the whipped cream, but then return to her fabric for the next cut. "I was thinking that if this place is the Snowasis, maybe it should have some snow." But she stops then, pale brows pinching in a frown takes her mouth. "Unless a snowasis is, like, palm trees. I don't know. Do you know?"
Or maybe it's just that you can't show fear in front of the scissors. Or they will get you. "No idea," Leova supplies helpfully. She blows on the klah, but that only leads to the melting cream slopping over the edge, which means more finger-rescues. "Could put snow on palm trees though. Won't hurt them if it's cloth."
"Or maybe we'll just do some bright snowflakes. Then it's sort of... both at the same time. You know, pink and orange and yellow," Persie says, smiling at her own fabric, currently just plain old white stuff. "But not like.. you know, yellow snow. More like.. bananas." Though her brow is wrinkling again. "Anyway, how are you?" Even though she's asked that already. She pauses in the cutting to take a fresh sip of her drink. It smells strong enough.
"Fine. And, don't want yellow snow," Leova agrees. "Can't believe you all didn't go with W'jar and F'ren's idea of just heaping snow onto dragon muck before spring, though." It's said with a straight face, but then she hasn't had as much to drink as Persie, yet.
"Heaping...?" Persie's face screws up, a hitch to one side of her nose. "Heaping snow on dragon... What are you talking about?" she asks, her confusion turning to a laugh. "Oh hey, has anyone sat you down to talk about mating flights and all that? Did I talk to you? I can't remember now..." And then she pushes the fabric and shears in Leova's direction. "Here, you do a little. Those things are hurting my hand."
Leova gives the collection a wary look. Takes them, though. Turns the fabric over a few times, trying to keep it out of the klah. "Freeze it. Don't have to look at it." She leaves out the pair's worse ideas in favor of starting to snip. "Flights? No. Moll neither."
"Well, I suppose if they want to... it's kinda warm, though, sometimes. The muck. So it would probably just melt the snow." But now that she's got her little weyrling at work on her project, Persie can take her drink and sit back. She pulls a heel up to the chair, her knee poking up. And it might be visible then that she's pulled her boots off and has a bright purple sock on. "So, I guess we should talk about flights then... I mean, you know what all happens. Do you have, like, any questions about it?"
Leova snips dutifully, shoulders bent forward. "Good point. Melts the snow, you'd have to add more, and then you're just shoveling anyway." Little bits of fabric start falling, some onto the floor. She wrinkles her nose at the air: Persie's sock? "Questions. Right. How do they, you know. Not fall down."
Secath senses Vrianth bursts in, lighting up the petals with tiny displeased sparks. << I do not fall down! You have seen us fly many times, we do not fall. I will not fall tomorrow either. >>
"When they're, like, doing it?" Does this have conversation have the feel of school girls? Oh yeah. At least on Persie's side. "Well, they do fall a bit, but he's generally got his wings out at some point. And they break off before they crash into anything. That's why they fly up. So they can fall some. Any why they like golds to go really high because then they have more time to fall all... coupled. Which supposedly means more eggs. But that doesn't really matter for us." She bobs a shoulder. "You're kinda not really playing much attention just then anyway."
"Their wings break off." And then Leova realizes and makes a face, and she's pretty much stopped snipping. "But what if he hasn't done it before. How does he know? Do they take classes? And do we have to care about the whole blood thing?" Time for a big slurp of klah which doesn't get her grimacing any more than she has already, so it's probably not as hot as it used to be. "And tell me the truth, is it really always good, or is that just something they tell candidates so they'll say yes?"
Vrianth senses that Secath is doing what she does best, snuggliing with some male. She's probably have to open her eyes to remember what color his hide is. << Oh, don't listen to her, >> she tells Vrianth drowsily.
Secath senses Vrianth sparks a few more times, but it's Secath, and if her Secath wants to sleep... << I won't. >> Those internal wheels and gears of hers start turning a different direction, picking up speed.
"Do you think he really needs someone to point out that the ground is coming and hitting it might be bad?" Persie grins, a little chukling undercurrent both warm and impish. "He'll do it. And she'll do it. They just do it. People don't need demonstration to figure out how to have sex, do they? I didn't have one, at least. I suppose I wasn't falling out of the sky or anything but there's stuff that you just... do. And you don't have to worry about the blooding thing. She'll blood or not, depending on how she feels. It doesn't really matter in the end. For me, I like it better when she skips it because then the whole thing is a bit quicker." Watching Leova drink has Persie lifting her own glass again. "Not at all! I mean, it's not -bad- generally because you want it enough that... well, anything approximating anything will do, but it's not really good, either. You've got a first time... like... over and stuff, yeah?"
"Depends on if he's not really paying much attention either," Leova gives Persie's words back at her, but her eyes have a spark to them, and she can't keep the humor from showing in her voice in response to Persie's grin. "Again with the they're not people, like us people anyway, and we don't fall out of the sky while everybody's watching. And all. But if Secath hasn't crashed yet, that's a good sign. Too bad about the rest, though." She does glance around to make sure nobody's close enough to listen, has some more klah even. "While back. Not since candidacy and all, but think I know where I can get some help with that. So! When Secath's gone up. Who's the best, so far anyway?"
"Don't worry about them crashing. They don't crash. At least I've never heard of it. I suppose it's possible, but... anything is possible, you know? Anyway... How are- Wait. I asked that already." And for a beat Persie seems a touch confused, she sniffs, frowns, and then Leova making that glance for eavesdroppers and the weyrlingmaster knows something juicy is coming. She leans in. "Ooh, who? Anyone I know?" Gossip. And for now that's much more interesting than her own experiences.
"And before I forget, is there anyone who, you know, makes sure we all go to the right place? Don't want to wind up in Lu's weyr on accident." And with this, and Persie's reaction, Leova finally just gives up and puts the scissors down. "Don't get your hopes up. But maybe it'll take the edge off." She leans in to whisper, saying afterward, "Your turn. Who's the best?"
"Well, not... not really. Generally the male's riders are a little clearer so they're good about helping you get someplace if you're too out of it, if you wait too long. But really that just means... don't wait too long." That's Persie's advice. "Once you figure out that she's getting ready, just try to pay attention to things, I guess. Of course, it's sort of hard to guage the first few times but eventually you'll know what it feels like. And the Weyr is full of greenriders, so we understand what it's li..." She just trails off, though, as the whispered name sinks in. "Really? But not, like, recently, right? Because I think we all get in trouble for that sort of thing." Her lips catch her teeth, a bashful smile growing. "I don't know that I've had a.. a best. I mean, not for a flight. Not for my own flight. I sort of like it better when a girls win. It feels less... confusing."
"As long as it's the right someplace," Leova says with less enthusiasm and very ittle trust for those males' riders. "Pay attention. Fine. Wear a skirt, you think? But it gets so cold." She finger-scoops out the very last of the whipping cream that hasn't melted, looking at it more than the other greenrider. "Like I said. Not since before I got here. Won't get you into trouble." Her mouth curves like it's going to smile, but it fades when she glances up. "Less confusing? How come?"
"Oh!" Persie's eyes flies wide. "Do you wear skirts? Like, usually? I know it's sort of not easy now, weyrlinghood and all but... Do you? I hadn't ever thought of that. I just take everything off." And so let it not be said that Persie is -actually- shy, particularly not with a drink in her hand. And now she's staring up at the ceiling considering this. With another sip she decides, "Nah, I think it's easier just to take it all off. But... probably better to wear stuff you can get out of quickly. I've lost buttons. It's kinda sad." With some shifting around, she squeezes both heels onto her chair, thus both knees are hugged to her chest. "It's easy to say that it's all just a flight when it's girls. It's not like it's me or like it means anything or like it's got any... potential. I know that's probably sad and stupid to say anyway because it's not like any guy's ever really wanted anything afterwards anyway, but when a girl wins, I just don't have to think about all that. It's friendlier."
"No," says Leova firmly. "Everything? But you don't need everything. But... All right, if you say so." She pokes at the surface of the klah without drinking it. "No buttons either. Hate sewing them on. Do you go to sleep afterward? Or," finally she looks at Persie again. Finally sees what she's looking like, knees drawn up like that. "Oh." It's a little weak. "Didn't think of that. I'm sorry."
"It depends, I guess, on how it goes, on who I'm with." And now Persie starts wiggling back into her chair, her head cocked to the side and her eyes on the table. "But that's just... It's easier with girls because it doesn't matter one way or the other. What if a guy wins and then you sort of want to sleep and you want him there... And what if he leaves? Or what if you don't want him there and he wants to stay? If it's a girl, I don't know, it just doesn't really matter. Like a sister or a friend. She can go or stay and none of that matters." But Persie is looking all sorts of uncomfortable now, her mouth tight and her eyes a little distant.
"Oh," Leova repeats, and then her mouth has gotten all compressed. She stops looking directly at Persie, more to the side. "If he wants to stay you can tell him to go at least. Can't you." After more silence, she reaches over, aiming to slide Persie's glass back towards her hand, and at the nearest opportunity catches the eye of one of the servers: one more of those for her friend.
The interchange of looks between Leova and the server gets a quick refusing hand from Persie. "No no. Thank you, though. I'm low on marks and this here, well.." She lifts her nearly empty glass, giving it a sloshy swirl. At least the whole thing seems to have broken her out of her momentary discomfort. Her heels slip off the chair and with a few quick arrangements, she's sitting cross-legged, a pointy elbow on the table and her chin on her hand. "Anyway, afterwards, yeah, you can tell him to leave. Or leave yourself. That's really the sort of crappy part. All during the flight, stuff just happens, but after it's done it's like you're shot back into yourself. I'll tell you, though, it's better than the boys have it. At least when Vrianth gets you all wound up and stuff, you'll know thre's an end, a release. She'll rise, someone will catch and it'll be done. Chasers mostly just lose and just have to deal with that... wound up feeling."
"It's fine," Leova notes. "Got some, enough to treat you." But she doesn't push further if Persie still says no, and she even starts looking back again at her. But more lightly. Her tone's not, though, more like she's feeling her way through it. "Hope nobody gets their feelings hurt." She's quiet a moment. "Including the ones she doesn't... pick? Get flown by. I don't know how much you can sway her?"
Persie just gives a quick little shakes of her head that leaves her pale hair swinging, but she does smile for the offer. "I don't really know either," she says with an apologetic sort of grin. "I mean, I think some golds are better about that stuff. And some greens. And it probably depends on you and Vrianth and sll. Secath hardly listens to me when she's not all proddy so..." Bony shoulders up, bony shoulders down. "For me, there's nothing really to do about any of it so I don't fret over it too much. She used to be real regular, too, but not since we've come here."
"They were saying she made Teonath wait." Leova says a little while later. "How does she change when she's proddy? Secath, I mean. Do you have any idea why she got less regular? The cold maybe?" And after a longer while later, "That sounds hard. Not being able to do anything."
"That's what they say," Persie admit readily, brows up for that little bit of gossip. "I've heard people say she might have had someone intended, too, but you'd have to ask one of chasers about that. I mean, all of it, really, is specul-, specular... You know, just talk. Neither the Weyrwoman or the Weyrleader are real given to talk about themselves, either." Another shrug. "I don't know waht's put Secath off. Could be the weather or the move or just finding a new rhythm. It could even be me. Maybe it's just this place." Her eyes swing around the cavern as if the walls of the Snowasis might just be the culprit.
Leova slides a look at her. "Don't think I should ask the Weyrwoman herself?" She's got to be joking, right? She does smile at least a little, right before she starts looking around too. "Don't know what this place would do, either. Unless maybe because it's cold. I don't know, you know these things." More klah. More spiked klah. "Any other advice? Maybe what not to do. You know, like looking him up and down after and asking, is that all there is."
Well, Persie does look at Leova like she's crazy. "I guess you could if you wanted to. I can't imagine asking someone like that personal stuff. She's... you know, The Weyrwoman." Very important. The next time Leova's mug sets down, Persie's hand reaches for it. "My advice is to not worry too much. It all sounds more complicated than it is. She'll start to feel weird, you'll start to feel weird, the boys will start acting weird around you and you'll know it's coming and that you shouldn't really... trust yourselves. And then it'll happen and there will be nothing to think about. And then it'll be over." She lets out a heavy breath and frowns down into Leova's drink. "It's easier then it's girls," then she takes a sip.
Leova gives Persie a similar look, if only because Persie has her drink now. "Well, it's that or ask the Weyrleader!" Then she stops. "That was more funny in my head. But this not trusting. What do you mean, not trusting. Sounds like we need keepers. Except I haven't seen anyone with them. I don't think. Unless they are very secret keepers." It may be just as well that Persie has that klah.
Persie shakes her head. "I don't know him either." Nevermind that she was flying in the Weyrleader's wing before I'daur hauled her over to the weyrling gig. She sucks down more of Leova's drink and passes it back. "You spiked that," she notes. "Are you supposed to be drinking?" It's a question posed so casually that one might forget Persie herself is supposed to enforce those sorts of rules. "And trust... like... If you feel yourself getting really upset about something, knowing that it's probably the proddiness talking. And you shouldn't leave the Weyr, either. There's always someone getting in trouble for that one, going off somewhere and behaving poorly and word getting back here. And it's really ugly when a dragon goes and rises at a Hold or something. It's just... I sometimes sort of tend to.. talk a lot. When I'm proddy. Like... a lot a lot."
"Yes," Leova says with certainty. "If I behave anyway. And I'm with you so I have to behave. Something like that. Knew about not leaving anyway." She drinks, then looks into the mug, then drinks again. "Talk a lot? Like more than now? How much? Seems like this sort of thing, maybe good to have friends around. Don't know who you like to hang out with when you're not with us though. Only just realized."
"Oh." That's Persie's first response, a sound as round as her eyes are at the moment. "Well, I just hang out with everyone. With whoever. I don't have... anyone in particular. But yeah, I talk a lot. Sometimes. I tend to try to stay home because otherwise I say things and... it's just easier."
"Milani talks a lot too," Leova offers awkwardly. "And Vivy. Jasvie, only she's at Tillek. Maybe you'll meet her tomorrow. When we go. Vrianth says Secath always has company. I guess she likes talking too."
"Maybe. I don't quite know what we've got planned but... I'm sure there will be people around. I'm always up for meeting people." And Persie puts on a smile that seems almost entirely real. "Secath... I don't know how she does that, really. I guess dragons aren't real choosy." She reaches across, gathering up the forgotten shears and fabric all into a wad in her hand, which only makes it more difficult for her to then get that hand through her jacket sleeve. She does it this way anyway.
"Persie," only Leova just looks at her. Not exactly frowning. "Here," and she reaches to try and get the shears back from her, to fold up the fabric while she's getting her jacket on and press it back into her hand afterward, as though fixing this awkwardness could fix the rest. Even if Persie doesn't let her, she says, "When all this is over, let's come back here. All right? And I'll tell I'daur you've been real helpful in the meantime."
"Oh." There it is again. But now Persie is caught struggling to get her hand back out of her sleeve to hand off the craft supplies. With a grunt she gives up and just stuffs her hand through, fistfull popping out at the cuff. "It's ok. I've got it. I do. Back here? When... when what is all over? Tell I'daur..." Her brows go fron pinched confusion to high surprise. "I haven't been? Helpful?" This is distressing. "You don't have to lie to him or anything. I mean, he knows I'm... the way I am."
Leova's mouth compresses, watching her. "Right. You got it." She makes her tone ease some, the way she had with runners, go all low and warm and rhythmic. Not just with runners. "When we aren't weyrlings anymore. Me and the rest, not you. We'll come back to the Snowasis. And you have been helpful. It isn't lying. Just telling the truth. Don't know what you mean, how you are. You told me what you needed to. Answered my questions. Helpful, Persie."
Persie scrubs the back of her hand against her forhead. "Oh, when you're all graduated? Sure, we can come back here. I mean, I'm here plenty. It's not like you're going to graduated and be sent off to some other Weyr. You'll be here. And I'daur and I will be here." She gets to her feet, a stomps her them into her boots, leaving the laces loose. "You know... the way I am. I... I'm glad if I helped. It's really not... it's nothing to be scared about. If you're scared. Not that you seem scared. About flights that is. A lot of people are, though, so it's alright if you're scared. It's a while off yet anyway."
That stomping draws Leova's eyes, but she holds onto her nearly empty mug so she won't reach for the laces, offer some other help that's going to be refused. "You did," she says. "Don't want to be scared. Don't figure that would help any. So you helped. Thanks, Persie." And because she can't help herself, "Careful on the ice."
The honest thanks does seem to perk Persie right up. She flashes a smile, gets her coat somewhat tugged about her, gives Leova a perky salute with a pair of scissors before she starts walking backwards from the table, each step an extra dull thunk as her loose boots slip around her heels, laces chasing after. "If you think of more questions, you can ask whenever, you know. I'll see you later, Leova."
Leova clutches her mug a little harder as those boots start slipping. "Night, Persie," she says, and brings up a smile to go with the other greenrider's. "Good night." And between her and Vrianth, they keep track of their assistant weyrlingmaster until she's safely home. Or to the barracks. Or wherever. As long as she's safe.
VR: Day 20, month 12, Turn 15, of the Interval. It is a winter evening.
The day before the weyrling trip to Tillek, Persie and Leova have a talk. That talk.
Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr (#7315RIJ$)
Large with high ceilings, this cavern's most striking features are the little nooks and crannies along the perimeter and the seemingly dangerous jagged overhang of stalactites just above the hearth. More corners have been made from six, slightly curved walls with half-razed stone blocks rising from the ground as well as outcroppings of hollowed walls, making the layout cumbersome for a private dwelling, however decorative curtain rods and opaque fabrics have been installed to turn each defect in the cavern's shape into its own private corner.
Near the hearth, beneath the stone fixture hanging from the ceilings, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches have been set, the upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and even warmer hues of rich colors for winter. Small tables, fit for up to four people each, litter the landscape, while a wooden bar construction claims the wall where a dolly window to the kitchens is unlatched. The cabinetry installed has glass panels, so the various liquors available are visible.
Dinner is still some time away, but with evening falling earlier and earlier, the world is already turning dim and blue outside. But not in here. The Snowasis is toasty enough with a number of visitors clustered here and there, loitering until meal time. Persie is here too; a notable blonde head with a bright striped scarf still wrapped around her neck and her fur-lined jacket crammed behind her on her chair. She's got a small glass beside her, half empty of some amber liquid, and along with it some fabric, some thread and some shears. And it's really anyone's guess what she might be doing with them.
At least the weather looks to be fair for the Tillek trip tomorrow. Leova's working up to it, leaning against the bar and waiting for the man to finish spiking her mug of klah. And adding some of that whipped cream on top, too. Then again, if a weyrling isn't ready for the Hulk the day before, when will she be? Eventually Leova gets her drink and starts heading back towards the caverns when she makes her fatal decision. Apparently Secath's rider just hasn't been a horrible enough assistant weyrlingmaster, because when she sees her, Leova stops with a very pleased, "Persie!"
Persie's just picking up her scissor--likely bringing back terrifying memories for whatever weyrlings have seen such sights before--and spreading them open before she hears her name; it makes her stop and look around. "Oh Leova! Hey. Come have a seat." The blades wave the newer greenrider over to Persie's solitary table. "I," pause for emphasis. "Am making snowflakes. How are you?" And indeed she's got a chalk-drawn snowflake on that fabric in front of her and now, with her tongue poking out at the corner of her mouth, she starts to cut.
Leova helps herself, settling down with her mug where she can poke her finger in the klah and see if it's still too hot. Which leads to one of those bleepings N'thei is so fond of, which conveniently also answers Persie's question. "Hoping all the whipped cream doesn't melt too soon. Actually." Now she just helps herself to a fingerful of the stuff. Problem solved. "What are you going to do with them?" No fear of the scissors. At least, when they stay on that side of the table.
Persie's eyes watch the finger-testing, scan the status of the whipped cream, but then return to her fabric for the next cut. "I was thinking that if this place is the Snowasis, maybe it should have some snow." But she stops then, pale brows pinching in a frown takes her mouth. "Unless a snowasis is, like, palm trees. I don't know. Do you know?"
Or maybe it's just that you can't show fear in front of the scissors. Or they will get you. "No idea," Leova supplies helpfully. She blows on the klah, but that only leads to the melting cream slopping over the edge, which means more finger-rescues. "Could put snow on palm trees though. Won't hurt them if it's cloth."
"Or maybe we'll just do some bright snowflakes. Then it's sort of... both at the same time. You know, pink and orange and yellow," Persie says, smiling at her own fabric, currently just plain old white stuff. "But not like.. you know, yellow snow. More like.. bananas." Though her brow is wrinkling again. "Anyway, how are you?" Even though she's asked that already. She pauses in the cutting to take a fresh sip of her drink. It smells strong enough.
"Fine. And, don't want yellow snow," Leova agrees. "Can't believe you all didn't go with W'jar and F'ren's idea of just heaping snow onto dragon muck before spring, though." It's said with a straight face, but then she hasn't had as much to drink as Persie, yet.
"Heaping...?" Persie's face screws up, a hitch to one side of her nose. "Heaping snow on dragon... What are you talking about?" she asks, her confusion turning to a laugh. "Oh hey, has anyone sat you down to talk about mating flights and all that? Did I talk to you? I can't remember now..." And then she pushes the fabric and shears in Leova's direction. "Here, you do a little. Those things are hurting my hand."
Leova gives the collection a wary look. Takes them, though. Turns the fabric over a few times, trying to keep it out of the klah. "Freeze it. Don't have to look at it." She leaves out the pair's worse ideas in favor of starting to snip. "Flights? No. Moll neither."
"Well, I suppose if they want to... it's kinda warm, though, sometimes. The muck. So it would probably just melt the snow." But now that she's got her little weyrling at work on her project, Persie can take her drink and sit back. She pulls a heel up to the chair, her knee poking up. And it might be visible then that she's pulled her boots off and has a bright purple sock on. "So, I guess we should talk about flights then... I mean, you know what all happens. Do you have, like, any questions about it?"
Leova snips dutifully, shoulders bent forward. "Good point. Melts the snow, you'd have to add more, and then you're just shoveling anyway." Little bits of fabric start falling, some onto the floor. She wrinkles her nose at the air: Persie's sock? "Questions. Right. How do they, you know. Not fall down."
Secath senses Vrianth bursts in, lighting up the petals with tiny displeased sparks. << I do not fall down! You have seen us fly many times, we do not fall. I will not fall tomorrow either. >>
"When they're, like, doing it?" Does this have conversation have the feel of school girls? Oh yeah. At least on Persie's side. "Well, they do fall a bit, but he's generally got his wings out at some point. And they break off before they crash into anything. That's why they fly up. So they can fall some. Any why they like golds to go really high because then they have more time to fall all... coupled. Which supposedly means more eggs. But that doesn't really matter for us." She bobs a shoulder. "You're kinda not really playing much attention just then anyway."
"Their wings break off." And then Leova realizes and makes a face, and she's pretty much stopped snipping. "But what if he hasn't done it before. How does he know? Do they take classes? And do we have to care about the whole blood thing?" Time for a big slurp of klah which doesn't get her grimacing any more than she has already, so it's probably not as hot as it used to be. "And tell me the truth, is it really always good, or is that just something they tell candidates so they'll say yes?"
Vrianth senses that Secath is doing what she does best, snuggliing with some male. She's probably have to open her eyes to remember what color his hide is. << Oh, don't listen to her, >> she tells Vrianth drowsily.
Secath senses Vrianth sparks a few more times, but it's Secath, and if her Secath wants to sleep... << I won't. >> Those internal wheels and gears of hers start turning a different direction, picking up speed.
"Do you think he really needs someone to point out that the ground is coming and hitting it might be bad?" Persie grins, a little chukling undercurrent both warm and impish. "He'll do it. And she'll do it. They just do it. People don't need demonstration to figure out how to have sex, do they? I didn't have one, at least. I suppose I wasn't falling out of the sky or anything but there's stuff that you just... do. And you don't have to worry about the blooding thing. She'll blood or not, depending on how she feels. It doesn't really matter in the end. For me, I like it better when she skips it because then the whole thing is a bit quicker." Watching Leova drink has Persie lifting her own glass again. "Not at all! I mean, it's not -bad- generally because you want it enough that... well, anything approximating anything will do, but it's not really good, either. You've got a first time... like... over and stuff, yeah?"
"Depends on if he's not really paying much attention either," Leova gives Persie's words back at her, but her eyes have a spark to them, and she can't keep the humor from showing in her voice in response to Persie's grin. "Again with the they're not people, like us people anyway, and we don't fall out of the sky while everybody's watching. And all. But if Secath hasn't crashed yet, that's a good sign. Too bad about the rest, though." She does glance around to make sure nobody's close enough to listen, has some more klah even. "While back. Not since candidacy and all, but think I know where I can get some help with that. So! When Secath's gone up. Who's the best, so far anyway?"
"Don't worry about them crashing. They don't crash. At least I've never heard of it. I suppose it's possible, but... anything is possible, you know? Anyway... How are- Wait. I asked that already." And for a beat Persie seems a touch confused, she sniffs, frowns, and then Leova making that glance for eavesdroppers and the weyrlingmaster knows something juicy is coming. She leans in. "Ooh, who? Anyone I know?" Gossip. And for now that's much more interesting than her own experiences.
"And before I forget, is there anyone who, you know, makes sure we all go to the right place? Don't want to wind up in Lu's weyr on accident." And with this, and Persie's reaction, Leova finally just gives up and puts the scissors down. "Don't get your hopes up. But maybe it'll take the edge off." She leans in to whisper, saying afterward, "Your turn. Who's the best?"
"Well, not... not really. Generally the male's riders are a little clearer so they're good about helping you get someplace if you're too out of it, if you wait too long. But really that just means... don't wait too long." That's Persie's advice. "Once you figure out that she's getting ready, just try to pay attention to things, I guess. Of course, it's sort of hard to guage the first few times but eventually you'll know what it feels like. And the Weyr is full of greenriders, so we understand what it's li..." She just trails off, though, as the whispered name sinks in. "Really? But not, like, recently, right? Because I think we all get in trouble for that sort of thing." Her lips catch her teeth, a bashful smile growing. "I don't know that I've had a.. a best. I mean, not for a flight. Not for my own flight. I sort of like it better when a girls win. It feels less... confusing."
"As long as it's the right someplace," Leova says with less enthusiasm and very ittle trust for those males' riders. "Pay attention. Fine. Wear a skirt, you think? But it gets so cold." She finger-scoops out the very last of the whipping cream that hasn't melted, looking at it more than the other greenrider. "Like I said. Not since before I got here. Won't get you into trouble." Her mouth curves like it's going to smile, but it fades when she glances up. "Less confusing? How come?"
"Oh!" Persie's eyes flies wide. "Do you wear skirts? Like, usually? I know it's sort of not easy now, weyrlinghood and all but... Do you? I hadn't ever thought of that. I just take everything off." And so let it not be said that Persie is -actually- shy, particularly not with a drink in her hand. And now she's staring up at the ceiling considering this. With another sip she decides, "Nah, I think it's easier just to take it all off. But... probably better to wear stuff you can get out of quickly. I've lost buttons. It's kinda sad." With some shifting around, she squeezes both heels onto her chair, thus both knees are hugged to her chest. "It's easy to say that it's all just a flight when it's girls. It's not like it's me or like it means anything or like it's got any... potential. I know that's probably sad and stupid to say anyway because it's not like any guy's ever really wanted anything afterwards anyway, but when a girl wins, I just don't have to think about all that. It's friendlier."
"No," says Leova firmly. "Everything? But you don't need everything. But... All right, if you say so." She pokes at the surface of the klah without drinking it. "No buttons either. Hate sewing them on. Do you go to sleep afterward? Or," finally she looks at Persie again. Finally sees what she's looking like, knees drawn up like that. "Oh." It's a little weak. "Didn't think of that. I'm sorry."
"It depends, I guess, on how it goes, on who I'm with." And now Persie starts wiggling back into her chair, her head cocked to the side and her eyes on the table. "But that's just... It's easier with girls because it doesn't matter one way or the other. What if a guy wins and then you sort of want to sleep and you want him there... And what if he leaves? Or what if you don't want him there and he wants to stay? If it's a girl, I don't know, it just doesn't really matter. Like a sister or a friend. She can go or stay and none of that matters." But Persie is looking all sorts of uncomfortable now, her mouth tight and her eyes a little distant.
"Oh," Leova repeats, and then her mouth has gotten all compressed. She stops looking directly at Persie, more to the side. "If he wants to stay you can tell him to go at least. Can't you." After more silence, she reaches over, aiming to slide Persie's glass back towards her hand, and at the nearest opportunity catches the eye of one of the servers: one more of those for her friend.
The interchange of looks between Leova and the server gets a quick refusing hand from Persie. "No no. Thank you, though. I'm low on marks and this here, well.." She lifts her nearly empty glass, giving it a sloshy swirl. At least the whole thing seems to have broken her out of her momentary discomfort. Her heels slip off the chair and with a few quick arrangements, she's sitting cross-legged, a pointy elbow on the table and her chin on her hand. "Anyway, afterwards, yeah, you can tell him to leave. Or leave yourself. That's really the sort of crappy part. All during the flight, stuff just happens, but after it's done it's like you're shot back into yourself. I'll tell you, though, it's better than the boys have it. At least when Vrianth gets you all wound up and stuff, you'll know thre's an end, a release. She'll rise, someone will catch and it'll be done. Chasers mostly just lose and just have to deal with that... wound up feeling."
"It's fine," Leova notes. "Got some, enough to treat you." But she doesn't push further if Persie still says no, and she even starts looking back again at her. But more lightly. Her tone's not, though, more like she's feeling her way through it. "Hope nobody gets their feelings hurt." She's quiet a moment. "Including the ones she doesn't... pick? Get flown by. I don't know how much you can sway her?"
Persie just gives a quick little shakes of her head that leaves her pale hair swinging, but she does smile for the offer. "I don't really know either," she says with an apologetic sort of grin. "I mean, I think some golds are better about that stuff. And some greens. And it probably depends on you and Vrianth and sll. Secath hardly listens to me when she's not all proddy so..." Bony shoulders up, bony shoulders down. "For me, there's nothing really to do about any of it so I don't fret over it too much. She used to be real regular, too, but not since we've come here."
"They were saying she made Teonath wait." Leova says a little while later. "How does she change when she's proddy? Secath, I mean. Do you have any idea why she got less regular? The cold maybe?" And after a longer while later, "That sounds hard. Not being able to do anything."
"That's what they say," Persie admit readily, brows up for that little bit of gossip. "I've heard people say she might have had someone intended, too, but you'd have to ask one of chasers about that. I mean, all of it, really, is specul-, specular... You know, just talk. Neither the Weyrwoman or the Weyrleader are real given to talk about themselves, either." Another shrug. "I don't know waht's put Secath off. Could be the weather or the move or just finding a new rhythm. It could even be me. Maybe it's just this place." Her eyes swing around the cavern as if the walls of the Snowasis might just be the culprit.
Leova slides a look at her. "Don't think I should ask the Weyrwoman herself?" She's got to be joking, right? She does smile at least a little, right before she starts looking around too. "Don't know what this place would do, either. Unless maybe because it's cold. I don't know, you know these things." More klah. More spiked klah. "Any other advice? Maybe what not to do. You know, like looking him up and down after and asking, is that all there is."
Well, Persie does look at Leova like she's crazy. "I guess you could if you wanted to. I can't imagine asking someone like that personal stuff. She's... you know, The Weyrwoman." Very important. The next time Leova's mug sets down, Persie's hand reaches for it. "My advice is to not worry too much. It all sounds more complicated than it is. She'll start to feel weird, you'll start to feel weird, the boys will start acting weird around you and you'll know it's coming and that you shouldn't really... trust yourselves. And then it'll happen and there will be nothing to think about. And then it'll be over." She lets out a heavy breath and frowns down into Leova's drink. "It's easier then it's girls," then she takes a sip.
Leova gives Persie a similar look, if only because Persie has her drink now. "Well, it's that or ask the Weyrleader!" Then she stops. "That was more funny in my head. But this not trusting. What do you mean, not trusting. Sounds like we need keepers. Except I haven't seen anyone with them. I don't think. Unless they are very secret keepers." It may be just as well that Persie has that klah.
Persie shakes her head. "I don't know him either." Nevermind that she was flying in the Weyrleader's wing before I'daur hauled her over to the weyrling gig. She sucks down more of Leova's drink and passes it back. "You spiked that," she notes. "Are you supposed to be drinking?" It's a question posed so casually that one might forget Persie herself is supposed to enforce those sorts of rules. "And trust... like... If you feel yourself getting really upset about something, knowing that it's probably the proddiness talking. And you shouldn't leave the Weyr, either. There's always someone getting in trouble for that one, going off somewhere and behaving poorly and word getting back here. And it's really ugly when a dragon goes and rises at a Hold or something. It's just... I sometimes sort of tend to.. talk a lot. When I'm proddy. Like... a lot a lot."
"Yes," Leova says with certainty. "If I behave anyway. And I'm with you so I have to behave. Something like that. Knew about not leaving anyway." She drinks, then looks into the mug, then drinks again. "Talk a lot? Like more than now? How much? Seems like this sort of thing, maybe good to have friends around. Don't know who you like to hang out with when you're not with us though. Only just realized."
"Oh." That's Persie's first response, a sound as round as her eyes are at the moment. "Well, I just hang out with everyone. With whoever. I don't have... anyone in particular. But yeah, I talk a lot. Sometimes. I tend to try to stay home because otherwise I say things and... it's just easier."
"Milani talks a lot too," Leova offers awkwardly. "And Vivy. Jasvie, only she's at Tillek. Maybe you'll meet her tomorrow. When we go. Vrianth says Secath always has company. I guess she likes talking too."
"Maybe. I don't quite know what we've got planned but... I'm sure there will be people around. I'm always up for meeting people." And Persie puts on a smile that seems almost entirely real. "Secath... I don't know how she does that, really. I guess dragons aren't real choosy." She reaches across, gathering up the forgotten shears and fabric all into a wad in her hand, which only makes it more difficult for her to then get that hand through her jacket sleeve. She does it this way anyway.
"Persie," only Leova just looks at her. Not exactly frowning. "Here," and she reaches to try and get the shears back from her, to fold up the fabric while she's getting her jacket on and press it back into her hand afterward, as though fixing this awkwardness could fix the rest. Even if Persie doesn't let her, she says, "When all this is over, let's come back here. All right? And I'll tell I'daur you've been real helpful in the meantime."
"Oh." There it is again. But now Persie is caught struggling to get her hand back out of her sleeve to hand off the craft supplies. With a grunt she gives up and just stuffs her hand through, fistfull popping out at the cuff. "It's ok. I've got it. I do. Back here? When... when what is all over? Tell I'daur..." Her brows go fron pinched confusion to high surprise. "I haven't been? Helpful?" This is distressing. "You don't have to lie to him or anything. I mean, he knows I'm... the way I am."
Leova's mouth compresses, watching her. "Right. You got it." She makes her tone ease some, the way she had with runners, go all low and warm and rhythmic. Not just with runners. "When we aren't weyrlings anymore. Me and the rest, not you. We'll come back to the Snowasis. And you have been helpful. It isn't lying. Just telling the truth. Don't know what you mean, how you are. You told me what you needed to. Answered my questions. Helpful, Persie."
Persie scrubs the back of her hand against her forhead. "Oh, when you're all graduated? Sure, we can come back here. I mean, I'm here plenty. It's not like you're going to graduated and be sent off to some other Weyr. You'll be here. And I'daur and I will be here." She gets to her feet, a stomps her them into her boots, leaving the laces loose. "You know... the way I am. I... I'm glad if I helped. It's really not... it's nothing to be scared about. If you're scared. Not that you seem scared. About flights that is. A lot of people are, though, so it's alright if you're scared. It's a while off yet anyway."
That stomping draws Leova's eyes, but she holds onto her nearly empty mug so she won't reach for the laces, offer some other help that's going to be refused. "You did," she says. "Don't want to be scared. Don't figure that would help any. So you helped. Thanks, Persie." And because she can't help herself, "Careful on the ice."
The honest thanks does seem to perk Persie right up. She flashes a smile, gets her coat somewhat tugged about her, gives Leova a perky salute with a pair of scissors before she starts walking backwards from the table, each step an extra dull thunk as her loose boots slip around her heels, laces chasing after. "If you think of more questions, you can ask whenever, you know. I'll see you later, Leova."
Leova clutches her mug a little harder as those boots start slipping. "Night, Persie," she says, and brings up a smile to go with the other greenrider's. "Good night." And between her and Vrianth, they keep track of their assistant weyrlingmaster until she's safely home. Or to the barracks. Or wherever. As long as she's safe.