Log: Tea and Cookies
Who: Milani, Persie
When: It is a spring dusk, 18:36 of day 19, month 4, turn 19 of Interval 10.
Where: Headwoman's Office, High Reaches Weyr
What: Persie comes by with a little something for Millie. They talk a little about Satiet, Emilly and N'thei until things get a little funny again when A'son is brought up.
Headwoman's Office, High Reaches Weyr
This room is too small to really serve as anyone's room but a little too big to be relegated to closet status. Oval in shape, it has a large wooden door that grants or bars access and smooth walls carved with inset shelves that hold tidy rows of scrolls and ledgers. To the right of the door, a table large enough for six to squeeze in at is often occupied by the assistant headwomen during tithe season and a pitcher of water and glasses stand ready to serve in its center at all times.
Squarely in the center of the room is the headwoman's desk, a massive affair of well-polished wood and many drawers bearing neat stacks of hides, incoming and outgoing baskets, many paperweights and a glowbasket stand with several small baskets that allow the light level to be adjusted to suit the task at hand. The rear wall of the office, behind the desk bears a vividly hued tapestry depicting a tithing scene with wagons pulled into the Weyr being unloaded. To the left a small hearth shares a flue with the main fireplace in the common room and is capped with a stone mantel that currently holds a collection of small rocks, shells and other knick knacks that presumably belong to the Headwoman.
It's the middle of the day, another strange day. And Persie shows up in Milani's doorway with a tray, takes one look at the headwoman and almost drops the whole tray on the floor, blinking as if Milani was the last person she expected to find in Milani's office. Imagine that. "Uh..." There's a clinking of dishes, but steady hands make them quiet again soon enough.
Blue-green eyes, a little fatigued around the edges, look up at that clinking, blinking and the short syllable. "Hi Persie," Milani greets the greenrider and gestures her inward, eyeing the tray thoughtfully. "How're you holding up?" It's a question that's been asked a lot the last few days.
"I... I didn't think you'd be here," Persie says, looking a little awkward now that her plan has gone unexpectedly awry. "I thought you'd be busy and running around and... I figured..." She lowers the tray, there's a teapot, still steaming, a cup and a plate of assorted biscuits and cookies. "I was just going to leave this for you."
Milani taps the large volume of stuff on her desk. "Lots of things going on," the headwoman claims with a wry smile. "Hidework isn't really Tiriana's um ... strong suit," she says carefully then smiles beatifically at Persie. "/Thank you/ for bringing that. I could stand a break," she claims, setting down her pen and stretching up to her feet.
"I know that sometimes people forget... Or, no, that the people who take care of other people don't always... But I'm sure that you have plenty of..." Ok, finally Persie gives up. "How are -you- holding up?" She should probably be setting down the tray but maybe she's forgotten that part.
"Everyone's kind of ..." Milani loops a finger around and around next to her head. "Yeah." She pads on over to where the tray's been set down and pulls out two chairs, folds herself up into one of them shoes left behind on the floor. "Some days are better than others," Millie says thoughtfully. "Some days I want to smack Tiriana over the head with my abacus and force all the things she's supposed to have learned into her head ..."
Persie does take a seat, but rather notably, there is only one cup on the tray and she doesn't take any of the baked good. She just folds onto her chair, her hands clasped and tucked between her knees. "Well, I can't imgine anyone is really... processing well. She has to be distracted," she offers generously, attempting a small, hopeful smile. "But you're doing okay?"
Treats, there's treats and Milani's always been a sucker for sweets. The headwoman reaches for a biscuit, pours out tea and looks across at the greenrider. "I have another mug if you want some," she offers lightly then puffs out her cheeks, nodding along with what Persie's saying. "No. But ... we still have jobs to do," Millie says quietly, looks down at the tea swirling in her cup. "I'll get by," the headwoman says a trifle evasively. "There's shoulders to cry on and share tears with if I need to."
Persie shakes her head for the cup. "I just brought it for you. I'm fine," she answers, smiling again. And she nods, quickly picking up on the bit of evasion. "I just know that... sometimes it's easy forget about yourself when there are people to take care of and I wanted... to do something for you." There seem to be other things she wants to say, but instead she can only smile.
Milani turns that cup back and forth between her fingers, smiles across at Persie. "Thank you," she says again, sincerely. "I'm worried about my mother actually. She hasn't been talking much since it all happened," she says with a little sigh and props her chin in her hand. "She was one of Satiet's weyrlingmasters, did you know?"
Persie cants her hear, watching the tray, chewing her lip. "It's strange to think she was once a weyrling, a girl." Her flashes flicker thoughtfully; there's a twitch to her pale brows. "You probably haven't had as much time as you'd like to be with her. Your mother." It feels quite necessary to take on that explanation.
"Isn't it? I mean, I've lived here all my life and I was a little kid back then, but ... I just always think of her how she was. Kind of remote and cool and collected and with those like, little sayings that could be good things or bad things but always kind of just," she turns her hand like a key in a lock, "got you, you know?" She drums fingers against her cheek, picks up that biscuit and nibbles on it distractedly. "Mum's up in her studio. She hasn't come down much. Paddy's been coming by. But yes, I hope she comes down soon."
It makes Persie very still, dwelling on whatever she's thinking. It's probably not what comes out: "I didn't know her at all. She was always..." No, that doesn't work either. In typical Persie fashion, nothing ever comes out right. She sits quietly for a moment instead. "I'm sorry."
"Older? Very quiet?" Milani suggests endings for that sentence, the corner of her mouth quirking up a little and she retires backwards in her chair, to sip from her cup. "Time heals all wounds, right?" the headwoman murmurs pensively to the tea.
"Unreachable?" Persie tries, hesitant and unsatisfied with that word too. And as for wounds healing, she looks a little dubious. "Is he... how is... he?" But maybe that pronoun isn't as clear as she'd like it to be. She knows it and her expression is hopeful that Milani will understand anyway.
"Really? Hm. I suppose you'd have to really know her," Milani says slowly about her mother, has another sip from the mug and her eyes fix on Persie steadily. "N'thei? I haven't seen him since the day she died. It ... wasn't good that day. Though I've heard he tried to toss Leova off her own ledge."
Persie meant that Satiet was unreachable, but well, it's not unusual for Persie's odd brain to make it hard for her to figure out what's going on anyway. And she nods, because she can only assume that the Weyrwoman as well would seem less unreachable if you really knew her. And then the steady look makes her shrink a little, thin shoulders growing smaller. She exhales and then, well, her brows snap together. "Toss her off her ledge?"
"I haven't talked to Leova yet," Milani says slowly, hands turning her mut around and around. "But K'del told me about it. Cadejoth was ... trying to step in. But apparently he wanted his old weyr back and wasn't particularly nice about asking," Millie says quietly. "He's hurting a lot, Persie."
She asked, but Persie doesn't seem to react to the answer. Instead, "I need to see Leova. The last time I talked to her..." She shakes her head, pale hair swinging. "I'm sorry that things went the way they did. That night when A'son was there." Brow up. Milani remembers that night? "Have you seen him since... then?"
"Mm," is all that Milani says about that, flaking off little bits from the edge of a fresh treat. "Mmmhm," is another not so much of a word answer, accompanied by a head-bob. "I'd ... rather not talk about that, Persie, to be honest," the headwoman says softly.
Persie blinks and is immediately regretful. With a furrowed brow she nods quickly. "I'm sorry. I just... I thought you could use... a snack or something. It was silly." She's shaking her head, getting to her feet. "I just wanted to do something for you. There's so little I can do for... anyone. But I'll go. And let you..." Whatever, she's standing, she's ready to bolt.
Blinking: "Why are you sorry? It's nice to have company and the snack is great, Persie," Milani reassures and pops a little crumb of biscuit into her mouth. "I think even just ... being company for each other is a good thing we can all do for each other."
"But I'm not... helping at all. I'm just... None of it's any of my business." Persie is backing toward the door. "I don't have anything useful to say. I didn't mean to upset you."
Milani is watching Persie again, gaze steady. "You're not, Persie," she says softly. "Thank you for this," her hand sweeps to gesture towards the tea and the basket.
Persie nods firmly, choosing to believe Milani's assurance, but not without some act of willpower on her part. "I helped make some of the cookies, so I hope they're okay." But she's at the doorway now, so close to escape. "I'm happy to be able to do something. Even something little. Just... take care of yourself, Milani," she says finally, with a warm smile.
"They are good," Milani affirms and sends another little smile after Persie. "I'll see you ," she tells the greenrider, has a little more tea with cookie then pushes to her feet to get back to work.
When: It is a spring dusk, 18:36 of day 19, month 4, turn 19 of Interval 10.
Where: Headwoman's Office, High Reaches Weyr
What: Persie comes by with a little something for Millie. They talk a little about Satiet, Emilly and N'thei until things get a little funny again when A'son is brought up.
Headwoman's Office, High Reaches Weyr
This room is too small to really serve as anyone's room but a little too big to be relegated to closet status. Oval in shape, it has a large wooden door that grants or bars access and smooth walls carved with inset shelves that hold tidy rows of scrolls and ledgers. To the right of the door, a table large enough for six to squeeze in at is often occupied by the assistant headwomen during tithe season and a pitcher of water and glasses stand ready to serve in its center at all times.
Squarely in the center of the room is the headwoman's desk, a massive affair of well-polished wood and many drawers bearing neat stacks of hides, incoming and outgoing baskets, many paperweights and a glowbasket stand with several small baskets that allow the light level to be adjusted to suit the task at hand. The rear wall of the office, behind the desk bears a vividly hued tapestry depicting a tithing scene with wagons pulled into the Weyr being unloaded. To the left a small hearth shares a flue with the main fireplace in the common room and is capped with a stone mantel that currently holds a collection of small rocks, shells and other knick knacks that presumably belong to the Headwoman.
It's the middle of the day, another strange day. And Persie shows up in Milani's doorway with a tray, takes one look at the headwoman and almost drops the whole tray on the floor, blinking as if Milani was the last person she expected to find in Milani's office. Imagine that. "Uh..." There's a clinking of dishes, but steady hands make them quiet again soon enough.
Blue-green eyes, a little fatigued around the edges, look up at that clinking, blinking and the short syllable. "Hi Persie," Milani greets the greenrider and gestures her inward, eyeing the tray thoughtfully. "How're you holding up?" It's a question that's been asked a lot the last few days.
"I... I didn't think you'd be here," Persie says, looking a little awkward now that her plan has gone unexpectedly awry. "I thought you'd be busy and running around and... I figured..." She lowers the tray, there's a teapot, still steaming, a cup and a plate of assorted biscuits and cookies. "I was just going to leave this for you."
Milani taps the large volume of stuff on her desk. "Lots of things going on," the headwoman claims with a wry smile. "Hidework isn't really Tiriana's um ... strong suit," she says carefully then smiles beatifically at Persie. "/Thank you/ for bringing that. I could stand a break," she claims, setting down her pen and stretching up to her feet.
"I know that sometimes people forget... Or, no, that the people who take care of other people don't always... But I'm sure that you have plenty of..." Ok, finally Persie gives up. "How are -you- holding up?" She should probably be setting down the tray but maybe she's forgotten that part.
"Everyone's kind of ..." Milani loops a finger around and around next to her head. "Yeah." She pads on over to where the tray's been set down and pulls out two chairs, folds herself up into one of them shoes left behind on the floor. "Some days are better than others," Millie says thoughtfully. "Some days I want to smack Tiriana over the head with my abacus and force all the things she's supposed to have learned into her head ..."
Persie does take a seat, but rather notably, there is only one cup on the tray and she doesn't take any of the baked good. She just folds onto her chair, her hands clasped and tucked between her knees. "Well, I can't imgine anyone is really... processing well. She has to be distracted," she offers generously, attempting a small, hopeful smile. "But you're doing okay?"
Treats, there's treats and Milani's always been a sucker for sweets. The headwoman reaches for a biscuit, pours out tea and looks across at the greenrider. "I have another mug if you want some," she offers lightly then puffs out her cheeks, nodding along with what Persie's saying. "No. But ... we still have jobs to do," Millie says quietly, looks down at the tea swirling in her cup. "I'll get by," the headwoman says a trifle evasively. "There's shoulders to cry on and share tears with if I need to."
Persie shakes her head for the cup. "I just brought it for you. I'm fine," she answers, smiling again. And she nods, quickly picking up on the bit of evasion. "I just know that... sometimes it's easy forget about yourself when there are people to take care of and I wanted... to do something for you." There seem to be other things she wants to say, but instead she can only smile.
Milani turns that cup back and forth between her fingers, smiles across at Persie. "Thank you," she says again, sincerely. "I'm worried about my mother actually. She hasn't been talking much since it all happened," she says with a little sigh and props her chin in her hand. "She was one of Satiet's weyrlingmasters, did you know?"
Persie cants her hear, watching the tray, chewing her lip. "It's strange to think she was once a weyrling, a girl." Her flashes flicker thoughtfully; there's a twitch to her pale brows. "You probably haven't had as much time as you'd like to be with her. Your mother." It feels quite necessary to take on that explanation.
"Isn't it? I mean, I've lived here all my life and I was a little kid back then, but ... I just always think of her how she was. Kind of remote and cool and collected and with those like, little sayings that could be good things or bad things but always kind of just," she turns her hand like a key in a lock, "got you, you know?" She drums fingers against her cheek, picks up that biscuit and nibbles on it distractedly. "Mum's up in her studio. She hasn't come down much. Paddy's been coming by. But yes, I hope she comes down soon."
It makes Persie very still, dwelling on whatever she's thinking. It's probably not what comes out: "I didn't know her at all. She was always..." No, that doesn't work either. In typical Persie fashion, nothing ever comes out right. She sits quietly for a moment instead. "I'm sorry."
"Older? Very quiet?" Milani suggests endings for that sentence, the corner of her mouth quirking up a little and she retires backwards in her chair, to sip from her cup. "Time heals all wounds, right?" the headwoman murmurs pensively to the tea.
"Unreachable?" Persie tries, hesitant and unsatisfied with that word too. And as for wounds healing, she looks a little dubious. "Is he... how is... he?" But maybe that pronoun isn't as clear as she'd like it to be. She knows it and her expression is hopeful that Milani will understand anyway.
"Really? Hm. I suppose you'd have to really know her," Milani says slowly about her mother, has another sip from the mug and her eyes fix on Persie steadily. "N'thei? I haven't seen him since the day she died. It ... wasn't good that day. Though I've heard he tried to toss Leova off her own ledge."
Persie meant that Satiet was unreachable, but well, it's not unusual for Persie's odd brain to make it hard for her to figure out what's going on anyway. And she nods, because she can only assume that the Weyrwoman as well would seem less unreachable if you really knew her. And then the steady look makes her shrink a little, thin shoulders growing smaller. She exhales and then, well, her brows snap together. "Toss her off her ledge?"
"I haven't talked to Leova yet," Milani says slowly, hands turning her mut around and around. "But K'del told me about it. Cadejoth was ... trying to step in. But apparently he wanted his old weyr back and wasn't particularly nice about asking," Millie says quietly. "He's hurting a lot, Persie."
She asked, but Persie doesn't seem to react to the answer. Instead, "I need to see Leova. The last time I talked to her..." She shakes her head, pale hair swinging. "I'm sorry that things went the way they did. That night when A'son was there." Brow up. Milani remembers that night? "Have you seen him since... then?"
"Mm," is all that Milani says about that, flaking off little bits from the edge of a fresh treat. "Mmmhm," is another not so much of a word answer, accompanied by a head-bob. "I'd ... rather not talk about that, Persie, to be honest," the headwoman says softly.
Persie blinks and is immediately regretful. With a furrowed brow she nods quickly. "I'm sorry. I just... I thought you could use... a snack or something. It was silly." She's shaking her head, getting to her feet. "I just wanted to do something for you. There's so little I can do for... anyone. But I'll go. And let you..." Whatever, she's standing, she's ready to bolt.
Blinking: "Why are you sorry? It's nice to have company and the snack is great, Persie," Milani reassures and pops a little crumb of biscuit into her mouth. "I think even just ... being company for each other is a good thing we can all do for each other."
"But I'm not... helping at all. I'm just... None of it's any of my business." Persie is backing toward the door. "I don't have anything useful to say. I didn't mean to upset you."
Milani is watching Persie again, gaze steady. "You're not, Persie," she says softly. "Thank you for this," her hand sweeps to gesture towards the tea and the basket.
Persie nods firmly, choosing to believe Milani's assurance, but not without some act of willpower on her part. "I helped make some of the cookies, so I hope they're okay." But she's at the doorway now, so close to escape. "I'm happy to be able to do something. Even something little. Just... take care of yourself, Milani," she says finally, with a warm smile.
"They are good," Milani affirms and sends another little smile after Persie. "I'll see you ," she tells the greenrider, has a little more tea with cookie then pushes to her feet to get back to work.