The Perils of Being Miniyal
Who: Miniyal and Issa
Where: Records room
When: Dinnertime on day 10, month 7, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: Miniyal tracks Issa down for a chat. Umm. She's no snitch, dammit!
4/2/2007
At High Reaches Weyr, it is dinnertime on day 10, month 7, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
When Issa leaves the training cavern with a handful of formation hides curled into the crook of her elbow, there's little question as to where she's headed. Her path winds across the bowl, as predicted, and through the living cavern just beginning to buzz with the sounds of dinner and up into the lower caverns. As she proceeds past the business of the main caverns and into the buffered quiet of the upper hallways, her steps gradually grows slower, more wearied and when she steps through the doorway of the records room a sigh rids the straight tension of her shoulders leaving them slightly slumped. She hangs a moment next to the basket set aside for returning hides to do a quick survey of the room, her hand flattened against the formations she's just laid there. An older records room attendant sits quietly to the right of the entrance, lifting his eyes from his hunched copying to spare the greenrider a smile, but other than him the shelves are free of even the frenzied rustle that usually marks studious Caucus students. Issa steps away with another deep breath, moving on to a gathering of hides toward the back, known by those familiar to the records room to be the lighter, more pleasant fare offered here.
She's not trying to hide the fact she's following the other woman. As a matter of fact, it wasn't until the living cavern that she even saw the greenrider. However, Miniyal does see her and does excuse herself from the other weyrlings she is with. Meals, after all, are supposed to be taken together. And along down the corridor untilt hey reach the records room. She lingers a moment outside, then peers inside, then finally steps inside as well. The man on duty gets a nod and a timid smile. Records is not exactly a welcoming place for her these days thanks to the fallout between father and daughter. But, she comes in anyway and catches where Issa heads for and then heads over the same way. Silent following until the back of the room is reached. Then she clears her throat quietly. "Excuse me, ma'am?"
About to reach for a thin, bound set of harper songs, Issa hears that address and pivots, composure regained in a snap though her expression remains easy and welcoming. "Yes? Miniyal," she greets, blue eyes falling on the weyrling as her smile lifts. Her arms cross over her midsection, bulging out her jacket below the level of her tightened arms. "You not hungry?" She knows where she should be at this time, no question, but there's no accusation in the question, just polite inquiry.
Being a good little weyrling, no, really, Miniyal has ready for Issa when she turns a salute. A little more cocky than it needs to be, but what's the sense in always doing things perfect? "I ate already, ma'am. Me and some of the others." See? Even eating with the others. "But I saw you and I was wanting to talk to you, ma'am. When the others were not around." After the salute she shoves her hands in her pockets. "If you have a minute anyway, ma'am. I don't want to interrupt your free time, ma'am."
Such a good little weyrling gets an amused tilt of Issa's smile for all her ma'ams and the salute that the wingsecond dismisses casually. "Don't worry about it," she reassures, her hand flicking idly on its way back to the records, that selection of gathered hides inched gently off the shelf and into her grip. It has her attention for only a short moment, however, before her eyes lift again to Miniyal. "Talk away. And I'm sure you've met your quota of ma'ams, so I think I can let you off the hook for the rest of this conversation, at least." Her smile quirks and she leans back against the shelf, arranging herself for a wait, however long or short it might be, as Miniyal gathers her words.
"Sure thing, ma'am," Miniyal says with a faint grin. Then she clears her throat and glances down to marshal those thoughts that will bring up her words. "Umm. Look. I'm not. . .you know. I mean, I don't want anyone thinking that if they tell me something it comes back to anyone, but in this case. . .umm. Well, it didn't come to me directly." Clearing her throat she runs a hand down the back of her neck and then sighs. "Peloth asked me something weird the other day. When we were with S'ol and Xalth. And I'm a little concerned. And I know it's none of my business and it's not my place to try to do anything, but for whatever reason Xalth seems to be dealing well with Peloth and so, well, here we are."
As Issa listens, eyes gently flicking over the weyrling's features, concern subtly comes to the surface in her calm expression. Her feet shift and she sends a quick glance down at them. "Miniyal," she says as her gaze returns, a note of sternness creeping into her voice, "if there's something wrong with one of the weyrlings, you need to tell me." None of this rambling around the bush.
Beating around the bush is what Miniyal is good at. She's excellent at it. But, she doesn't always follow that line. Not when it doesn't seem to suit the situation. "S'ol is. . .I don't know. He has some problems with women I guess. I mean, he's a good little holder boy, yeah? Never been with a woman and somewhat intimidated by them. And I guess he had some trouble when he first got here with overly amorous women." To her credit, she at least looks embarrassed to be spilling someone's secret. It kills her all things considered. "And Xalth asked Peloth about it and she asked me and she told me later he'd said he was going to protect his from them. And that he'd already done so. I'm just worried that something could happen and I know S'ol's got these extra lessons with D'ven and all, but that's not the reason why so. . .look. I hate doing this, alright?"
Slowly Issa's fingers lift and tap down over the front of her chosen hides. "I understand," she replies, with a nod just as slow, "but I'm glad you are. I have a feeling it's a situation you'll find yourself in more and more often." With a huff she lets out the rest of her breath and turns her eyes up to the shelves, gaze flying down titles and tags. "Did you have a particular solution in mind to bring to my attention," she muses as she slowly returns to regard the goldrider, "or were you just... informing?"
"I don't like doing it. Word gets out I can't keep. . .I mean, it's not good if people think I can't be trusted to keep quiet is all." Miniyal shakes her head as she pauses a moment and chews on her lower lip. "I don't really know. I mean, he seems really, well, bothered. I mean, he talks to me alright most of the time, but not always. I agreed to go around the bowl with him in the mornings. He suggested some extra work would help me be better able to keep up physically with everyone." Her eyes roll at this and she shakes her head again. "Anyway, I think Peloth excuses me from Xalth trouble, but S'ol's not entirely comfortable with me still. Maybe find a reason to pair him with some of the less, umm, forceful girls in the barracks to start? I'm afraid I'm not real knowledgeable in the ways of innocent holder boys. Only holdbred boy I knew was a complete fuck." Another pause and there's a faint smile, wry. "Besides, I'm not supposed to do things. I'm supposed to let the adults handle things and not interfere. So sayeth the boss lady. So I wouldn't want to make too many suggestions so it doesn't seem like I am trying to interfere."
"They do have a tendency, don't they?" Issa comments for Miniyal's comment about less than savory holder boys, a fond reference to her own. But the private little curve of her smile gets tossed aside in favor of a more amused set, her grin only faintly suppressed as she listens out the wry comments. "So sayeth," the greenrider repeats, musingly enjoying the phrase before she continues. "I want you to have your say, Miniyal," she says, using the goldrider's name yet again with some subconcious need to get through to her. "Don't mistake me. But I want you to collaborate, to talk with me, with D'ven, not to just take things into your own hands. This is good," she assures her with a single nod, eyes tracing along the floor for a short way before they turn up, pinning Miniyal in her stare as she adds with a subtly sly, slip of a grin, "And don't worry about your reputation. Other people can keep secrets besides you."
Chewing on her lower lip, Miniyal nods her head. Pulling a hand from her pocket she smooths her hair absently, a few wisps having escaped her braids. "Yes, well, I just won't- I don't want to be anyone's snitch, right? It's not going to endear me to anyone if it ever gets out and I have enough troubles is all." Her hand goes back in her pocket as she nods her head. "I'm trying. It's not- I'm not doing anything. I'm just talking to the kid. He's so damned naive. He's going to get eaten alive around here. Anyway, I'm not- I'm trying. I just don't like not doing things." Looking down at the ground she rocks back on her feet a moment and then shrugs. "But I guess until you two screw up too bad I can give you the benefit of the doubt." Nothing can be read from her tone, pretty neutral, but that's why she keeps her head down, to hide any amusement that doesn't get hidden in her expression.
Issa gives a quick breath of laughter and responds, "And until we screw up too bad, you can come to us and let do the doing for you. At least until you get your full junior's knot and can carry out your own schemes." Her smile twitches higher on one side, slanted in amusement that she doesn't bother to hide from the weyrling. "I'll see what I can do for S'ol," she promises with a decisive nod of her head, shoving up out of her lean and turning to look at the shelves again. "You should keep talking with him, though. See if you can't convince him somehow into a more... happy medium. Try having problems with only half of all women, maybe."
"I'll keep talking to him. Hard to avoid it." Miniyal shrugs and pulls her hands from her pockets to tug at her shirt. "Anyway. Umm. I'll be going now. Her highness the brat is waking up and will want her 'I work so hard in my sleep I need a bath' bath before I can feed her." Shaking her head she snorts, annoyed. Really. Annoyed. Smiling lightly she tilts her head to the side and then salutes again. Same as before. Some things never change. "I don't have schemes, by the way, ma'am. They're called projects."
"Projects," Issa repeats, her shoulders lifting with the signs of a silent laugh as she looks at Miniyal out of the corner of her eyes. Catching that salute, she faces the weyrling for another quick, almost tired salute of dismissal, same as before. "I'll keep that in mind. Have an enjoyable bathtime, then, weyrling," she offers before turning back to her perusal of the shelves, stepping her way slowly along as she looks for a familiar title buried among all the others.
Where: Records room
When: Dinnertime on day 10, month 7, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: Miniyal tracks Issa down for a chat. Umm. She's no snitch, dammit!
4/2/2007
At High Reaches Weyr, it is dinnertime on day 10, month 7, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
When Issa leaves the training cavern with a handful of formation hides curled into the crook of her elbow, there's little question as to where she's headed. Her path winds across the bowl, as predicted, and through the living cavern just beginning to buzz with the sounds of dinner and up into the lower caverns. As she proceeds past the business of the main caverns and into the buffered quiet of the upper hallways, her steps gradually grows slower, more wearied and when she steps through the doorway of the records room a sigh rids the straight tension of her shoulders leaving them slightly slumped. She hangs a moment next to the basket set aside for returning hides to do a quick survey of the room, her hand flattened against the formations she's just laid there. An older records room attendant sits quietly to the right of the entrance, lifting his eyes from his hunched copying to spare the greenrider a smile, but other than him the shelves are free of even the frenzied rustle that usually marks studious Caucus students. Issa steps away with another deep breath, moving on to a gathering of hides toward the back, known by those familiar to the records room to be the lighter, more pleasant fare offered here.
She's not trying to hide the fact she's following the other woman. As a matter of fact, it wasn't until the living cavern that she even saw the greenrider. However, Miniyal does see her and does excuse herself from the other weyrlings she is with. Meals, after all, are supposed to be taken together. And along down the corridor untilt hey reach the records room. She lingers a moment outside, then peers inside, then finally steps inside as well. The man on duty gets a nod and a timid smile. Records is not exactly a welcoming place for her these days thanks to the fallout between father and daughter. But, she comes in anyway and catches where Issa heads for and then heads over the same way. Silent following until the back of the room is reached. Then she clears her throat quietly. "Excuse me, ma'am?"
About to reach for a thin, bound set of harper songs, Issa hears that address and pivots, composure regained in a snap though her expression remains easy and welcoming. "Yes? Miniyal," she greets, blue eyes falling on the weyrling as her smile lifts. Her arms cross over her midsection, bulging out her jacket below the level of her tightened arms. "You not hungry?" She knows where she should be at this time, no question, but there's no accusation in the question, just polite inquiry.
Being a good little weyrling, no, really, Miniyal has ready for Issa when she turns a salute. A little more cocky than it needs to be, but what's the sense in always doing things perfect? "I ate already, ma'am. Me and some of the others." See? Even eating with the others. "But I saw you and I was wanting to talk to you, ma'am. When the others were not around." After the salute she shoves her hands in her pockets. "If you have a minute anyway, ma'am. I don't want to interrupt your free time, ma'am."
Such a good little weyrling gets an amused tilt of Issa's smile for all her ma'ams and the salute that the wingsecond dismisses casually. "Don't worry about it," she reassures, her hand flicking idly on its way back to the records, that selection of gathered hides inched gently off the shelf and into her grip. It has her attention for only a short moment, however, before her eyes lift again to Miniyal. "Talk away. And I'm sure you've met your quota of ma'ams, so I think I can let you off the hook for the rest of this conversation, at least." Her smile quirks and she leans back against the shelf, arranging herself for a wait, however long or short it might be, as Miniyal gathers her words.
"Sure thing, ma'am," Miniyal says with a faint grin. Then she clears her throat and glances down to marshal those thoughts that will bring up her words. "Umm. Look. I'm not. . .you know. I mean, I don't want anyone thinking that if they tell me something it comes back to anyone, but in this case. . .umm. Well, it didn't come to me directly." Clearing her throat she runs a hand down the back of her neck and then sighs. "Peloth asked me something weird the other day. When we were with S'ol and Xalth. And I'm a little concerned. And I know it's none of my business and it's not my place to try to do anything, but for whatever reason Xalth seems to be dealing well with Peloth and so, well, here we are."
As Issa listens, eyes gently flicking over the weyrling's features, concern subtly comes to the surface in her calm expression. Her feet shift and she sends a quick glance down at them. "Miniyal," she says as her gaze returns, a note of sternness creeping into her voice, "if there's something wrong with one of the weyrlings, you need to tell me." None of this rambling around the bush.
Beating around the bush is what Miniyal is good at. She's excellent at it. But, she doesn't always follow that line. Not when it doesn't seem to suit the situation. "S'ol is. . .I don't know. He has some problems with women I guess. I mean, he's a good little holder boy, yeah? Never been with a woman and somewhat intimidated by them. And I guess he had some trouble when he first got here with overly amorous women." To her credit, she at least looks embarrassed to be spilling someone's secret. It kills her all things considered. "And Xalth asked Peloth about it and she asked me and she told me later he'd said he was going to protect his from them. And that he'd already done so. I'm just worried that something could happen and I know S'ol's got these extra lessons with D'ven and all, but that's not the reason why so. . .look. I hate doing this, alright?"
Slowly Issa's fingers lift and tap down over the front of her chosen hides. "I understand," she replies, with a nod just as slow, "but I'm glad you are. I have a feeling it's a situation you'll find yourself in more and more often." With a huff she lets out the rest of her breath and turns her eyes up to the shelves, gaze flying down titles and tags. "Did you have a particular solution in mind to bring to my attention," she muses as she slowly returns to regard the goldrider, "or were you just... informing?"
"I don't like doing it. Word gets out I can't keep. . .I mean, it's not good if people think I can't be trusted to keep quiet is all." Miniyal shakes her head as she pauses a moment and chews on her lower lip. "I don't really know. I mean, he seems really, well, bothered. I mean, he talks to me alright most of the time, but not always. I agreed to go around the bowl with him in the mornings. He suggested some extra work would help me be better able to keep up physically with everyone." Her eyes roll at this and she shakes her head again. "Anyway, I think Peloth excuses me from Xalth trouble, but S'ol's not entirely comfortable with me still. Maybe find a reason to pair him with some of the less, umm, forceful girls in the barracks to start? I'm afraid I'm not real knowledgeable in the ways of innocent holder boys. Only holdbred boy I knew was a complete fuck." Another pause and there's a faint smile, wry. "Besides, I'm not supposed to do things. I'm supposed to let the adults handle things and not interfere. So sayeth the boss lady. So I wouldn't want to make too many suggestions so it doesn't seem like I am trying to interfere."
"They do have a tendency, don't they?" Issa comments for Miniyal's comment about less than savory holder boys, a fond reference to her own. But the private little curve of her smile gets tossed aside in favor of a more amused set, her grin only faintly suppressed as she listens out the wry comments. "So sayeth," the greenrider repeats, musingly enjoying the phrase before she continues. "I want you to have your say, Miniyal," she says, using the goldrider's name yet again with some subconcious need to get through to her. "Don't mistake me. But I want you to collaborate, to talk with me, with D'ven, not to just take things into your own hands. This is good," she assures her with a single nod, eyes tracing along the floor for a short way before they turn up, pinning Miniyal in her stare as she adds with a subtly sly, slip of a grin, "And don't worry about your reputation. Other people can keep secrets besides you."
Chewing on her lower lip, Miniyal nods her head. Pulling a hand from her pocket she smooths her hair absently, a few wisps having escaped her braids. "Yes, well, I just won't- I don't want to be anyone's snitch, right? It's not going to endear me to anyone if it ever gets out and I have enough troubles is all." Her hand goes back in her pocket as she nods her head. "I'm trying. It's not- I'm not doing anything. I'm just talking to the kid. He's so damned naive. He's going to get eaten alive around here. Anyway, I'm not- I'm trying. I just don't like not doing things." Looking down at the ground she rocks back on her feet a moment and then shrugs. "But I guess until you two screw up too bad I can give you the benefit of the doubt." Nothing can be read from her tone, pretty neutral, but that's why she keeps her head down, to hide any amusement that doesn't get hidden in her expression.
Issa gives a quick breath of laughter and responds, "And until we screw up too bad, you can come to us and let do the doing for you. At least until you get your full junior's knot and can carry out your own schemes." Her smile twitches higher on one side, slanted in amusement that she doesn't bother to hide from the weyrling. "I'll see what I can do for S'ol," she promises with a decisive nod of her head, shoving up out of her lean and turning to look at the shelves again. "You should keep talking with him, though. See if you can't convince him somehow into a more... happy medium. Try having problems with only half of all women, maybe."
"I'll keep talking to him. Hard to avoid it." Miniyal shrugs and pulls her hands from her pockets to tug at her shirt. "Anyway. Umm. I'll be going now. Her highness the brat is waking up and will want her 'I work so hard in my sleep I need a bath' bath before I can feed her." Shaking her head she snorts, annoyed. Really. Annoyed. Smiling lightly she tilts her head to the side and then salutes again. Same as before. Some things never change. "I don't have schemes, by the way, ma'am. They're called projects."
"Projects," Issa repeats, her shoulders lifting with the signs of a silent laugh as she looks at Miniyal out of the corner of her eyes. Catching that salute, she faces the weyrling for another quick, almost tired salute of dismissal, same as before. "I'll keep that in mind. Have an enjoyable bathtime, then, weyrling," she offers before turning back to her perusal of the shelves, stepping her way slowly along as she looks for a familiar title buried among all the others.