Log: Olive Branch
Who: Milani, Tiriana
When: Twilight, Day 28, Month 4, Turn 19
Where: Tiriana and Iovniath's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr
What: Tiriana and Milani catch up. It goes well, for a little while.
Shamelessly stolen from Tiriana
Evening. Things at Tiriana's place are quiet as twilight settles over the Weyr. Tiriana and Iovniath both are out on the ledge, getting whatever last sun they can amidst the lengthening shadows. While the gold lounges, watching as always over her Weyr, Tiriana has a rarer-seen stack of papers in front of her, though she's reduced to squinting at them and scowling in the low light. Somebody hasn't thought yet to fetch a glow.
Conveniently, Milani's coming across the Bowl with a glowbasket in one hand, held up against the approaching darkness. The headwoman pauses at the foot of the stairs. "All right if I come up?" she inquires politely from there, gaze turned upwards towards the goldrider. There's a clipboard tucked under her arm, so this must be work-related.
Iovniath's eyes, much keener in the dark, track Milani and her glow as they come closer, and she dips her head as the younger girl hails them."Does it stop you if I say no?" Tiriana asks, looking up and blinking, rubbing her tired eyes with her hand. "You never bring anything good. What do you want now?" She sits up, though, and sets aside the stuff she's been going over.
"If you're really busy and really don't want to be bothered, then yes," Milani says, but she climbs up the stairs, ignoring the confrontational 'what do you want'. Instead she sets the glowbasket on the table and nods to it. "Might want this if you're staying out much longer." Her gaze takes in the stacks of hides and her cheeks puff out. "What have you been tackling today?"
Tiriana snorts, plainly not falling for that. She doesn't even say thank you for the glow, though she does pull it over to where she can see by it. "More inventory crap," she says, poking at it. "Gave up on finishing it last night 'cause I swear I was going to kill myself if I had to read one more word. Just makes my head hurt." And she glowers at the papers, like it's their fault. Of course, if she's always sitting in the dark reading it, one can hardly blame the hides.
"Good to get caught up with that. I know it can be boring. Let me know if there's anything that you want highlighted or pointed out,' Milani offers mildly and folds her arms across her chest, looking out across the dim-lit Bowl. "I hate to ask, but have you gotten to those two kids who need to be fostered, yet? Their mothers are ready to muster back into wings and want to get them set up sooner rather than later, especially with everything being so --" she waves vaguely with one hand, "-- you know."
"I can do it," Tiriana says, probably more sharply than necessary; she lays one palm over the top of her stack, as though Milani's going to grab it and go running across the bowl any minute. With the other, though, she rubs her temple. "Faranth, I /hate/ women. Spent half the morning dealing with them, and then that one--you know, that pushy blonde idiot one--she corners me over lunch and starts going on about how she doesn't think this is going to work and obviously that other woman is not the right one. And I told her she could just raise the brat herself, then, since she knew best. Then she shut up." Which just makes Tiriana smirk, pleased with herself.
"I'm not offering to do it for you, Tiriana," Milani says with an effort to keep her voice patient. "Just if there's any shortcuts that might help, let me know and I can point them out." She's looking out at the Bowl, so maybe Tiriana won't see her eyes close and her lips press together as the weyrwoman relates this things to her. "Do you have any backup recommendations to make?" she asks, voice too even.
Tiriana's eyes narrow in suspicion, but she releases the hides, at least, even as she points out, "You're not the only one who knows how to do things. Shortcuts or otherwise." For the time being, however, she seems to have quit, and stacks the glowbasket on top of the papers, turned to give them more light to talk by. "Back-ups?" she says, frowning. "Why do we--no, I don't have a back-up recommendation. It'll be fine, not like a baby's going to know the difference, and if the mother's so unhappy, well." A shrug. Then, "Don't you start second-guessing me, either."
"Just say the word if you come up with something new and brilliant," Milani says and then bites on her lip, takes a deep breath. "Because she's a greenrider and she wants to foster her child and doesn't feel she'll do a good job on her own," the headwoman says patiently. "You know all of the fosterers as well as I do, some alternate options would probably help to ... keep things moving along."
"Sure thing," Tiriana issues a snide retort, glaring at Milani. She shakes her head, though, flicks a glance at Iovniath sitting by and then the dark bowl. "Gave it to that one... You know. Hell. I never remember their names--the really nice one, but she's, like, not even thirty but her hair's all white?" Nose wrinkling, she motions at her own dark hair, as though that will clear it up. "Kind of creeps me out. Chetia? Is that it? Anyway, she's got several of the things already and they seemed marginally less bratty than most of the kids, so. Told them--her and that greenrider--to go have dinner together or something. Get to know each other, and figured that would fix it, right?"
"Xetia," Milani reminds about the woman's name and her head bobs. "That ought to do it, yeah, I hope so anyway," the headwoman says, looking relieved. "I swear, the two of them have been worrying about it forever, but then saying they need to get on with it and ..." she gestures loosely. "Anyway, good, yeah, that should get things moving." She tilts a little look sideways at the goldrider then. "Other than all of the stupid hidework and people driving you crazy though -- hanging in there? Ready to take on a little more?"
"Close enough," Tiriana says, and actually looks pleased with herself for that, and for actually managing to, if not solve the problem, then at least get both parties moving on that. Her expression falls, though, at Milani's latter question, and she glances sideways at the headwoman. "I'm managing fine," she says slowly. "Why, what now?"
"We'll just have to have another strategy ready for backup if it falls through though," Milani reminds the goldrider and turns back towards her, takes a breath. "Yes, you are, but this isn't everything that Satiet managed, surely you know that. Remember you told me to keep things running, well I have been, but you know, we should really look at making sure you've got a handle on everything that the Weyrwoman is supposed to, just you know in steps, not all at once. Right?"
"Well, yeah, but." Tiriana waves it off with a rough motion, shaking her head. "Since you aren't going anywhere--" Tiriana shoots a quick look at Milani; she's not, is she? "--and it's all running fine now. Not that I /can't/ do it, it's not like I don't know what I'm doing. Just--what is it you want me doing now?"
"No I'm not going anywhere, but it's still the Weyrwoman's job, not the Headwoman's," Milani says slowly, carefully, "I'm glad to help out, but I'm not the Weyrwoman and wouldn't really ... dream of trying to pretend I am," the headwoman struggles a little with how to stay that. "You'll need to start doing your own staff meeting prep, and thinking about giving some more of the paperwork to Lu to do. You need to be doing more people stuff here, and well, have you gone around to the holds yet?"
"I hate those meetings," Tiriana says feelingly; but at least she's not threatening to doze off during them since taking over. But still, she nods. "Fine, fine. I'll talk to Lu. --The holders." That elicits a groan from her, and a sigh. "Fine, I'll see about setting up meetings with them. Most of them aren't so bad? Tillek and Nabol--although he creeps me out, him and that wife of his. And Crom." She makes a face. "Maybe I'll make that Yuliye go with me there again."
"You'll get the hang of them," Milani says with an attempt at being encouraging though she does then make a face about Nabol, nodding emphatically. "I know. Dirty old man he is, but a good holder," she points out, "tithe always on time and all that and looks after his people. I guess all that experience counts for something." Crom earns an indrawn breath and she nods. "It's a good connection to use ... have you reached out to her more at all? I mean, like, to make nice-nice."
"Experience in what? Isn't she, like, number six or something?" Tiriana asks, with a skeptical look over at Milani. "And she's younger than me. It's gross. I mean, old people are gross enough, without having them hit on you. It's like that creepy old uncle that always wants to know if I've ditched that weyrmate of mine yet, every time I walk by that hearth." She shudders, and only thinking about Yuliye and the disagreeable if not disgusting Crom distracts her. "Well. Not really? But she was pretty nice last time, so...?" Shrug. "She gave me a tour of the whole place. It was weird."
"With managing a hold," Milani says a little drily. "I know I like older men, but that's pushing it, even for me," she says with a slight clearing of her throat. "A tour? That's good though, ask her over for tea maybe? I mean, it can't hurt, right? Maybe she could be a friend even."
Tiriana snorts, like she just doesn't quite believe that. "Older men, right. And aren't you the one fooling around with that jerk K'del all the time?" Beat. "Tea? Are you /serious/? Me, sitting down with some girl over tea and talking about the weather and how the crops are doing. Or no, gossiping about who's sleeping with who and how cute that new guy is, maybe that instead?" Tiriana rolls her eyes at the prospect. "Weyrwomen have to have better things to do. Hell, I'd find something better to do even if I wasn't one."
"If you didn't have a weyrmate, you could do worse than try him out sometime. He lasts a really long time and has great hands, sometimes you don't have to be older to have a lot of experience," Milani says quite matter-of-factly. "And yes, I'm serious. It's part of the job too. The tea and ... drinks and whatever and making things all smooth with holder types so that they keep feeding us."
And Tiriana actually laughs at that. "Oh, please. R'uen's tons better than him, I assure you," although that mention of her weyrmate darkens her expression briefly. It's a line of conversation quickly, brusquely, abandoned. "I tell you, I hate holders, too. They never learn, always try to pull that same stunt with the tithes if we don't keep bending over for them. With tea in hand, apparently. Who really /drinks/ that stuff? Tea." Grimace.
"You can't know if you haven't gone there," Milani points out with a shrug. "Not that I doubt R'uen's a good lay," she says quite airily. "But he's not the only good lover in the world." That darkening of the goldrider's expression knits Millie's brows briefly and maybe wisely, she doesn't keep bringing up Fort's Weyrleader. "Yeah and it's your job and F'rint's right now, to make sure that the lesson keeps getting re-taught. We've got a couple hundred years to get through, still and well ... frankly, that's not something I can do for you. I just can't. I'm the Headwoman, not the Weyrwoman. It's something that only you can really do." Deep breath. About the tea: "My mother."
Tiriana lets it--K'del and R'uen and the subject of sex in general--go, rare enough in itself. Instead, "F'rint, right. Be glad when we get rid of him. Did... Do you know where N'thei went?" Another look's slanted at Milani, and Tiriana bites her lip, thoughtful. "Your mother. Well, isn't she special. Don't think my parents ever drank anything non-alcoholic. Or I don't remember them doing it, anyway. Definitely not tea, though."
"But he's good at the job," Milani points out about F'rint and raises both brows, "why would you want to get rid of him?" She draws a breath about N'thei and shakes her head. "No. I didn't really even know he was going. I mean I knew he'd packed but he said 'not far' and well I sort of thought he just meant he was leaving that weyr, but he's been gone a while now." It's entirely likely that Millie's biting the inside of her cheek to keep a sharp retort from bursting out. It might even look like she's doing it. "Well it doesn't have to be tea. Brandy or whatever could work too. So long as it's the whole, inviting and hosting or bringing something nice around, kind of gesture."
"He's a brownrider?" tells Tiriana, giving Milani a look like that's obvious. "And we need a real Weyrleader. And if N'thei's going to run off and hide and leave all of us behind--." A shrug, but she's frowning now, and adds, "He wouldn't tell me, either. Just said something about his ledge and it wasn't any of my damn business." She shakes her head, pushes her hair back with a huff. "Anyway, brandy'd be better. Anything'd be better than /tea/. Except--am I better drunk or sober?" This is a very earnest question.
"It's fine for Acting though, besides, you know he's been doing most of the work anyway," Milani replies, lips pursed faintly. "Right. Well maybe he'll be back. I don't think he means to go away for good, but he needs time," the headwoman decides, plucking at her lips. The question brings her brows up and her eyes widen a touch. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you drunk."
"Still," says Tiriana. "Rest of us don't get to walk away. It's not fair." And that thought initiates a few moments of pouting, until she starts trying to think back. "Really? Huh. Think I get whiny and annoying," which is saying something, if even she thinks that. "And touchy. Really touchy." Pause. "Probably better sober," she decides.
"Do you really want to get into it with him?" Milani says with a little sigh. "But no, it's not. Just dump everything and go ... though I understand. Wish we could too, just a little. I guess we'll get a break when things get settled out again though," she says and lifts her hands to massage at her scalp a bit. "Mmm, probably better sober. Though now I'm tempted to see the difference when you're drunk."
"Just go away. Vacation, stay at Fort a while or something," Tiriana says, with a touch of gloominess in her expression, pulling her mouth's frown deeper. To the latter, she only shakes her head, too. "Don't drink with people I hate. Because of them, maybe, but not /with/ them."
"Mmm," is Milani's non-commital answer about Fort. "I wonder if that's a first, actually," the headwoman notes, voice light. "Weyrwoman and Weyrleader at two different Weyrs ... weyrmates." Her gaze slants sidelong towards Tiriana and she shrugs about the drinking. "I'll bear that in mind."
The lightness in Milani's voice only sours Tiriana's face more, her lips pinching together tightly. She's silent, letting the conversation die for a few moments before she finally asks, "It didn't work for you, did it. With Ista."
Milani doesn't push there. No she does not. Arms fold though around her mid-section and her head shakes slowly about Ista. "No," uttered softly and simply. There's hesitation for a fraction of a second before Millie speaks again, some kind of weird olive branch offered maybe. "I wanted to commit. Wanted the weyrmating. But I didn't want to do it long-distance. I pushed."
"You, commit." Even if she brought it up, in surprisingly nonconfrontational fashion herself, she can't seem to tolerate an olive branch from Milani. And with those sneering words, she's gathering up all her papers and tucking them under an arm so she can stand. Brusquely, "Well, we're not like that--we're already weyrmated. And it's fine. /We/ can handle it."
Sadly, Milani's only got so much resistance this month for harsh barbs and that particular one is a very sensitive spot right now. Her eyes close for a moment, a pained expression crossing the headwoman's face. When she answers her voice is thick. "For a whole turn, I did." She chokes the rest of what might be trying to come out back down though takes a deep breath and opens her eyes, looks over her shoulder at Tiriana, eyes suspiciously bright. "I hope it will be. And that Weyr politics won't get in the way." There's sincerity there and renewed sadness. "Are you finished out here for the night?"
Tiriana must know what she's done now, as audible as it is in Milani's voice. So instead of looking at the younger girl, she shuffles her papers, skims them, flips through--anything to give her something else to watch. "Yeah. I'm going in," she says at last, with a nod. "I'll see you tomorrow. --Night, Milani." It's not an apology, exactly, but it is resigned, absent of that anger that dispersed just as quickly as it appeared.
"I'll take this back then," Milani says about the glow and reaches over to hook the basket up one-handed. Steadily enough, though there's still that betraying tightness in her voice: "Good night, Tiriana. I'll see you in the morning." And she goes back the way she came, head held high, even as those barely held-back tears finally slip down her cheeks under the safe cover of darkness.
When: Twilight, Day 28, Month 4, Turn 19
Where: Tiriana and Iovniath's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr
What: Tiriana and Milani catch up. It goes well, for a little while.
Shamelessly stolen from Tiriana
Evening. Things at Tiriana's place are quiet as twilight settles over the Weyr. Tiriana and Iovniath both are out on the ledge, getting whatever last sun they can amidst the lengthening shadows. While the gold lounges, watching as always over her Weyr, Tiriana has a rarer-seen stack of papers in front of her, though she's reduced to squinting at them and scowling in the low light. Somebody hasn't thought yet to fetch a glow.
Conveniently, Milani's coming across the Bowl with a glowbasket in one hand, held up against the approaching darkness. The headwoman pauses at the foot of the stairs. "All right if I come up?" she inquires politely from there, gaze turned upwards towards the goldrider. There's a clipboard tucked under her arm, so this must be work-related.
Iovniath's eyes, much keener in the dark, track Milani and her glow as they come closer, and she dips her head as the younger girl hails them."Does it stop you if I say no?" Tiriana asks, looking up and blinking, rubbing her tired eyes with her hand. "You never bring anything good. What do you want now?" She sits up, though, and sets aside the stuff she's been going over.
"If you're really busy and really don't want to be bothered, then yes," Milani says, but she climbs up the stairs, ignoring the confrontational 'what do you want'. Instead she sets the glowbasket on the table and nods to it. "Might want this if you're staying out much longer." Her gaze takes in the stacks of hides and her cheeks puff out. "What have you been tackling today?"
Tiriana snorts, plainly not falling for that. She doesn't even say thank you for the glow, though she does pull it over to where she can see by it. "More inventory crap," she says, poking at it. "Gave up on finishing it last night 'cause I swear I was going to kill myself if I had to read one more word. Just makes my head hurt." And she glowers at the papers, like it's their fault. Of course, if she's always sitting in the dark reading it, one can hardly blame the hides.
"Good to get caught up with that. I know it can be boring. Let me know if there's anything that you want highlighted or pointed out,' Milani offers mildly and folds her arms across her chest, looking out across the dim-lit Bowl. "I hate to ask, but have you gotten to those two kids who need to be fostered, yet? Their mothers are ready to muster back into wings and want to get them set up sooner rather than later, especially with everything being so --" she waves vaguely with one hand, "-- you know."
"I can do it," Tiriana says, probably more sharply than necessary; she lays one palm over the top of her stack, as though Milani's going to grab it and go running across the bowl any minute. With the other, though, she rubs her temple. "Faranth, I /hate/ women. Spent half the morning dealing with them, and then that one--you know, that pushy blonde idiot one--she corners me over lunch and starts going on about how she doesn't think this is going to work and obviously that other woman is not the right one. And I told her she could just raise the brat herself, then, since she knew best. Then she shut up." Which just makes Tiriana smirk, pleased with herself.
"I'm not offering to do it for you, Tiriana," Milani says with an effort to keep her voice patient. "Just if there's any shortcuts that might help, let me know and I can point them out." She's looking out at the Bowl, so maybe Tiriana won't see her eyes close and her lips press together as the weyrwoman relates this things to her. "Do you have any backup recommendations to make?" she asks, voice too even.
Tiriana's eyes narrow in suspicion, but she releases the hides, at least, even as she points out, "You're not the only one who knows how to do things. Shortcuts or otherwise." For the time being, however, she seems to have quit, and stacks the glowbasket on top of the papers, turned to give them more light to talk by. "Back-ups?" she says, frowning. "Why do we--no, I don't have a back-up recommendation. It'll be fine, not like a baby's going to know the difference, and if the mother's so unhappy, well." A shrug. Then, "Don't you start second-guessing me, either."
"Just say the word if you come up with something new and brilliant," Milani says and then bites on her lip, takes a deep breath. "Because she's a greenrider and she wants to foster her child and doesn't feel she'll do a good job on her own," the headwoman says patiently. "You know all of the fosterers as well as I do, some alternate options would probably help to ... keep things moving along."
"Sure thing," Tiriana issues a snide retort, glaring at Milani. She shakes her head, though, flicks a glance at Iovniath sitting by and then the dark bowl. "Gave it to that one... You know. Hell. I never remember their names--the really nice one, but she's, like, not even thirty but her hair's all white?" Nose wrinkling, she motions at her own dark hair, as though that will clear it up. "Kind of creeps me out. Chetia? Is that it? Anyway, she's got several of the things already and they seemed marginally less bratty than most of the kids, so. Told them--her and that greenrider--to go have dinner together or something. Get to know each other, and figured that would fix it, right?"
"Xetia," Milani reminds about the woman's name and her head bobs. "That ought to do it, yeah, I hope so anyway," the headwoman says, looking relieved. "I swear, the two of them have been worrying about it forever, but then saying they need to get on with it and ..." she gestures loosely. "Anyway, good, yeah, that should get things moving." She tilts a little look sideways at the goldrider then. "Other than all of the stupid hidework and people driving you crazy though -- hanging in there? Ready to take on a little more?"
"Close enough," Tiriana says, and actually looks pleased with herself for that, and for actually managing to, if not solve the problem, then at least get both parties moving on that. Her expression falls, though, at Milani's latter question, and she glances sideways at the headwoman. "I'm managing fine," she says slowly. "Why, what now?"
"We'll just have to have another strategy ready for backup if it falls through though," Milani reminds the goldrider and turns back towards her, takes a breath. "Yes, you are, but this isn't everything that Satiet managed, surely you know that. Remember you told me to keep things running, well I have been, but you know, we should really look at making sure you've got a handle on everything that the Weyrwoman is supposed to, just you know in steps, not all at once. Right?"
"Well, yeah, but." Tiriana waves it off with a rough motion, shaking her head. "Since you aren't going anywhere--" Tiriana shoots a quick look at Milani; she's not, is she? "--and it's all running fine now. Not that I /can't/ do it, it's not like I don't know what I'm doing. Just--what is it you want me doing now?"
"No I'm not going anywhere, but it's still the Weyrwoman's job, not the Headwoman's," Milani says slowly, carefully, "I'm glad to help out, but I'm not the Weyrwoman and wouldn't really ... dream of trying to pretend I am," the headwoman struggles a little with how to stay that. "You'll need to start doing your own staff meeting prep, and thinking about giving some more of the paperwork to Lu to do. You need to be doing more people stuff here, and well, have you gone around to the holds yet?"
"I hate those meetings," Tiriana says feelingly; but at least she's not threatening to doze off during them since taking over. But still, she nods. "Fine, fine. I'll talk to Lu. --The holders." That elicits a groan from her, and a sigh. "Fine, I'll see about setting up meetings with them. Most of them aren't so bad? Tillek and Nabol--although he creeps me out, him and that wife of his. And Crom." She makes a face. "Maybe I'll make that Yuliye go with me there again."
"You'll get the hang of them," Milani says with an attempt at being encouraging though she does then make a face about Nabol, nodding emphatically. "I know. Dirty old man he is, but a good holder," she points out, "tithe always on time and all that and looks after his people. I guess all that experience counts for something." Crom earns an indrawn breath and she nods. "It's a good connection to use ... have you reached out to her more at all? I mean, like, to make nice-nice."
"Experience in what? Isn't she, like, number six or something?" Tiriana asks, with a skeptical look over at Milani. "And she's younger than me. It's gross. I mean, old people are gross enough, without having them hit on you. It's like that creepy old uncle that always wants to know if I've ditched that weyrmate of mine yet, every time I walk by that hearth." She shudders, and only thinking about Yuliye and the disagreeable if not disgusting Crom distracts her. "Well. Not really? But she was pretty nice last time, so...?" Shrug. "She gave me a tour of the whole place. It was weird."
"With managing a hold," Milani says a little drily. "I know I like older men, but that's pushing it, even for me," she says with a slight clearing of her throat. "A tour? That's good though, ask her over for tea maybe? I mean, it can't hurt, right? Maybe she could be a friend even."
Tiriana snorts, like she just doesn't quite believe that. "Older men, right. And aren't you the one fooling around with that jerk K'del all the time?" Beat. "Tea? Are you /serious/? Me, sitting down with some girl over tea and talking about the weather and how the crops are doing. Or no, gossiping about who's sleeping with who and how cute that new guy is, maybe that instead?" Tiriana rolls her eyes at the prospect. "Weyrwomen have to have better things to do. Hell, I'd find something better to do even if I wasn't one."
"If you didn't have a weyrmate, you could do worse than try him out sometime. He lasts a really long time and has great hands, sometimes you don't have to be older to have a lot of experience," Milani says quite matter-of-factly. "And yes, I'm serious. It's part of the job too. The tea and ... drinks and whatever and making things all smooth with holder types so that they keep feeding us."
And Tiriana actually laughs at that. "Oh, please. R'uen's tons better than him, I assure you," although that mention of her weyrmate darkens her expression briefly. It's a line of conversation quickly, brusquely, abandoned. "I tell you, I hate holders, too. They never learn, always try to pull that same stunt with the tithes if we don't keep bending over for them. With tea in hand, apparently. Who really /drinks/ that stuff? Tea." Grimace.
"You can't know if you haven't gone there," Milani points out with a shrug. "Not that I doubt R'uen's a good lay," she says quite airily. "But he's not the only good lover in the world." That darkening of the goldrider's expression knits Millie's brows briefly and maybe wisely, she doesn't keep bringing up Fort's Weyrleader. "Yeah and it's your job and F'rint's right now, to make sure that the lesson keeps getting re-taught. We've got a couple hundred years to get through, still and well ... frankly, that's not something I can do for you. I just can't. I'm the Headwoman, not the Weyrwoman. It's something that only you can really do." Deep breath. About the tea: "My mother."
Tiriana lets it--K'del and R'uen and the subject of sex in general--go, rare enough in itself. Instead, "F'rint, right. Be glad when we get rid of him. Did... Do you know where N'thei went?" Another look's slanted at Milani, and Tiriana bites her lip, thoughtful. "Your mother. Well, isn't she special. Don't think my parents ever drank anything non-alcoholic. Or I don't remember them doing it, anyway. Definitely not tea, though."
"But he's good at the job," Milani points out about F'rint and raises both brows, "why would you want to get rid of him?" She draws a breath about N'thei and shakes her head. "No. I didn't really even know he was going. I mean I knew he'd packed but he said 'not far' and well I sort of thought he just meant he was leaving that weyr, but he's been gone a while now." It's entirely likely that Millie's biting the inside of her cheek to keep a sharp retort from bursting out. It might even look like she's doing it. "Well it doesn't have to be tea. Brandy or whatever could work too. So long as it's the whole, inviting and hosting or bringing something nice around, kind of gesture."
"He's a brownrider?" tells Tiriana, giving Milani a look like that's obvious. "And we need a real Weyrleader. And if N'thei's going to run off and hide and leave all of us behind--." A shrug, but she's frowning now, and adds, "He wouldn't tell me, either. Just said something about his ledge and it wasn't any of my damn business." She shakes her head, pushes her hair back with a huff. "Anyway, brandy'd be better. Anything'd be better than /tea/. Except--am I better drunk or sober?" This is a very earnest question.
"It's fine for Acting though, besides, you know he's been doing most of the work anyway," Milani replies, lips pursed faintly. "Right. Well maybe he'll be back. I don't think he means to go away for good, but he needs time," the headwoman decides, plucking at her lips. The question brings her brows up and her eyes widen a touch. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you drunk."
"Still," says Tiriana. "Rest of us don't get to walk away. It's not fair." And that thought initiates a few moments of pouting, until she starts trying to think back. "Really? Huh. Think I get whiny and annoying," which is saying something, if even she thinks that. "And touchy. Really touchy." Pause. "Probably better sober," she decides.
"Do you really want to get into it with him?" Milani says with a little sigh. "But no, it's not. Just dump everything and go ... though I understand. Wish we could too, just a little. I guess we'll get a break when things get settled out again though," she says and lifts her hands to massage at her scalp a bit. "Mmm, probably better sober. Though now I'm tempted to see the difference when you're drunk."
"Just go away. Vacation, stay at Fort a while or something," Tiriana says, with a touch of gloominess in her expression, pulling her mouth's frown deeper. To the latter, she only shakes her head, too. "Don't drink with people I hate. Because of them, maybe, but not /with/ them."
"Mmm," is Milani's non-commital answer about Fort. "I wonder if that's a first, actually," the headwoman notes, voice light. "Weyrwoman and Weyrleader at two different Weyrs ... weyrmates." Her gaze slants sidelong towards Tiriana and she shrugs about the drinking. "I'll bear that in mind."
The lightness in Milani's voice only sours Tiriana's face more, her lips pinching together tightly. She's silent, letting the conversation die for a few moments before she finally asks, "It didn't work for you, did it. With Ista."
Milani doesn't push there. No she does not. Arms fold though around her mid-section and her head shakes slowly about Ista. "No," uttered softly and simply. There's hesitation for a fraction of a second before Millie speaks again, some kind of weird olive branch offered maybe. "I wanted to commit. Wanted the weyrmating. But I didn't want to do it long-distance. I pushed."
"You, commit." Even if she brought it up, in surprisingly nonconfrontational fashion herself, she can't seem to tolerate an olive branch from Milani. And with those sneering words, she's gathering up all her papers and tucking them under an arm so she can stand. Brusquely, "Well, we're not like that--we're already weyrmated. And it's fine. /We/ can handle it."
Sadly, Milani's only got so much resistance this month for harsh barbs and that particular one is a very sensitive spot right now. Her eyes close for a moment, a pained expression crossing the headwoman's face. When she answers her voice is thick. "For a whole turn, I did." She chokes the rest of what might be trying to come out back down though takes a deep breath and opens her eyes, looks over her shoulder at Tiriana, eyes suspiciously bright. "I hope it will be. And that Weyr politics won't get in the way." There's sincerity there and renewed sadness. "Are you finished out here for the night?"
Tiriana must know what she's done now, as audible as it is in Milani's voice. So instead of looking at the younger girl, she shuffles her papers, skims them, flips through--anything to give her something else to watch. "Yeah. I'm going in," she says at last, with a nod. "I'll see you tomorrow. --Night, Milani." It's not an apology, exactly, but it is resigned, absent of that anger that dispersed just as quickly as it appeared.
"I'll take this back then," Milani says about the glow and reaches over to hook the basket up one-handed. Steadily enough, though there's still that betraying tightness in her voice: "Good night, Tiriana. I'll see you in the morning." And she goes back the way she came, head held high, even as those barely held-back tears finally slip down her cheeks under the safe cover of darkness.