In which that sound you hear is our heroine's heart shattering into stillness.
Who: Miniyal and Issa
Where: Weyrling complex
When: Morning on the 21st day of month 10, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: One can only guess that Issa drew the short straw. She appears early in the morning to deliver the bad news to Miniyal.
5/20/2007
There are some weyrlings, still, who have to be rolled out of bed in the morning and barely have time to be ready for all they must do before their day truly starts. There are other weyrlings who do not need such assistance. In one particular case it is because she has not actually been to sleep at all. It is not unusual for Miniyal to be awake and dressed and up and ready before the rest of the barracks has even realised the day has started. Not unusual because she has long grown used to giving up on attempts at sleep to start her day. And so, while weyrlings roll out of their cots and dragons sleepily wake to a new day, weyrling weyrwoman and her gold are already up. Miniyal sits on her cot, brushing out damp hair in preparation for its daily braiding. If she snuck out to bathe early it was early enough to still be blissfully ignorant of anything that has happened. Nearby, Peloth divides attention between her rider and the rest of the sluggish group stumbling around like Pernese zombies.
It looks like Issa is back from the half rest day she took yesterday, and back earlier than is normal. The wakeup call, after all, isn't for another half an hour yet. So reserved still and careful that the sound of her worn boots doesn't interrupt the needed sleep of the others, she slips down the main aisle of the cots. Closer, her face plays out the same prudence, as if the slightest squint or smile might disrupt the entire aura of laziness that lies heavily over the barracks. "Morning," the greenrider murmurs as she nears the goldrider's cot, and judging by the snorer next to her, the greeting is for Miniyal alone. Her mouth opens to add more, but her breath stalls and slips out as a sigh instead, her hands clenching tighter to her bulging belly from their spot in her jacket pockets.
While she is used to getting up early, she is not used to being approached early and so the braiding falters and hands still on her hair, Miniyal looks up at the assistant weyrlingmaster with a puzzled expression. "Ma'am?" Then she has to shift her hold on her braid so she might salute. Although she doesn't stand as she does it. One can only expect so much from her. Formalities out of the way she returns to her braiding as Peloth's attention shifts wholly back towards her rider and the woman standing by her. "Don't tell me there's a rule now about not being awake before everyone else. Because if there is I'm fucked." She sounds almost amused.
Even in the training cavern, Issa has never been more than casually attendant to the respectful salutes of the weyrlings, and this one she gives her standard flick of release before the hand dives back into her pocket. Her expression stirs to offer a smile for the near-amusement present in Miniyal's tone, but it's nothing near her normal cheer. She is not happy, for one reason or another. "No, no," she assures in a voice much softer and kinder than her stiffness would predict, "you're not... you're not in trouble." A glance is cast over the nearby lumps in their cots and couches. "Would you walk with me?" Hands restricted to her jacket, she gestures toward the empty training cavern with a slight jerk of her chin.
The last words to be trusted, ever, are ones like 'you're not in trouble.' So, when she hears them the weyrling stiffens and looks down at her lap. Maybe it's just guilt for any number of things she likely has done and /should/ be in trouble for. Whatever the case, one braid is tied off and the other is hurriedly done up, messy, but better than only half one's hair being tied up. Rising to her feet she looks around. "They're not going to wake up, ma'am. Not unless you're planning on yelling. But, you're the boss." With a look over her shoulder at the gold watching this new development Miniyal departs then for the cavern outside the barracks with her own hands, now free of hair, finding their way into the pockets of her pants.
The wingsecond mirrors Miniyal's step as they make their way out to the larger cavern and even her posture to some degree with her trapped hands remaining firmly that way. And maybe she isn't to be trusted, for not often in their encounters has Issa been so quiet. It isn't until they're out of earshot from the barracks and far into the wide space of the training cavern that she breaks from her distraction, raises her eyes from the floor in front of their feet and says, "I need to tell you something," with her voice kept quiet and on an even keel. Her steps slow and eventually stop in the sighing pause that follows and she waits for Miniyal to follow suit before she continues. "Late last night," she says somewhat haltingly, her eyes soft and steady on the goldrider's, "something happened. Gans... he must have been visiting, or... Miniyal," her eyes dart down again before lifting, her expression tensing, "Gans is dead."
If they are walking, then they walk. Miniyal suppresses what curiosity exists, allowing it only to show in a slight shine of her eyes as she watches Issa. When the greenrider's steps slow so do hers and she comes to a stop as her expression turns oh, so carefully neutral at that first sentence. If there was any lingering trace of amusement or, even possibly, hope that today would not be so terrible as she has to expect it vanishes behind a careful mask as she stands still and listens to what is said. The halting way the other woman speaks only makes it worse. It's not like her, after all, who has always seemed so sure and confident. Still, even with warnings there was no way Miniyal could have anticipated the news just delivered to her. A breath escapes that might have been thinking of turning into a sob, but is not allowed to do so. Instead, Miniyal just closes her eyes for a minute as she says the only thing that she can think to say. "Oh." And the only indication that her calm external facade is so obviously fake is the sound of talons on stone in the other room followed by the appearance of Peloth whose rapidly whirling eyes see nothing but her rider as she sends sand flying everywhere in her haste to make it across the floor. And even if the gold's attention is only on her, Miniyal must move her brain elsewhere. "Has his mother been notified? Do you know? And Lord Anshuman. And, and, Kazimir. If messengers have been sent already I should like to send a note along once I've had a chance to write one. If they have not would I have time to do so? There are probably others, of course, but I can't think of them." A little leak of puzzlement follows this admission. As if she can't understand why she would not be able to think right now.
Issa can hear the gold rushing their way surely, but her eyes drag only slightly to the side of Miniyal's face, only her ears allowed to track the progress. The greenrider stands still to let the young dragon arrange herself as she wishes, but only watches Miniyal as the whole list spills from her mouth. "Everything will be taken care of, I'm sure," she murmurs, the expression around her eyes tensing even further. "You have the day, and any after it that you need," she assures the weyrling softly. A moment falls motionless between them then one of Issa's hands slips free of her jacket, slipping around Miniyal's shoulder, only to be followed by the other as she closes the weyrling in a hug that's firm enough to be a barrier to any minor protesting movements. That close she'll be able to notice the greenrider's small sniff and the swallow she forces down her throat.
"I should- We were. It's expected. That I send-" Never one for doing well at spilling for full sentences Miniyal seems to be having even more trouble at the moment. "Letters must be written. It is the proper thing to do." There, propriety to the rescue. Behind her Peloth settles still as stone just close enough that should her rider wish to reach behind her she might find a warm golden hide waiting for her. As still as she is the dragon is rivaled by her rider who does not move when hugged. It is only when her brain might point out that small sniff one of Miniyal's hands will emerge from a pocket to awkwardly pat the other rider's shoulder. "I will not need. It will only take a few hours to make arrangements to store what needs storing. And go through his correspondence. I shall have to send his class notes to- So they might be used or at least seen by the next. . .I shall arrange it all today. Thank you."
Issa's hands pull back to rest atop Miniyal's shoulders and when she looks Miniyal straight in the eyes there's a bit of moisture swimming in her own, a show of emotion that's quickly blinked away. "Well, you're not allowed to be at drills or lessons today, so you'll have plenty of time. And if you don't want to sleep in the barracks tonight, just have her tell Oshisyth." Peloth gets a glance, a nod. Her hands peel away as she looks back, and a mere step of distance falls between them again, Issa swiftly regaining the flat composure she began with. Except for her voice, which remains soft and fraught with tremors. "Miniyal, I'm sorry. I really am."
Miniyal returns her hand to her pocket as, once Issa steps away, Peloth closes that short distance between herself and her rider and would allow, if said rider thought of it, something to lean against. Instead, the weyrling just nods her head once. "Thank you, ma'am. I am sure we will be fine in the barracks tonight. I will take care of everything today." A slow blink and then she focuses on a spot once more behind and to one side of the greenrider's head. "I should-" Again she stops and this time one of her hands does emerge from a pocket to find Peloth and rest flat against her neck. "I should be getting to what needs doing, ma'am. Is he? I mean, where? I should like to say goodbye. And I must visit my parents to be sure they know I am fine and then-. Well, there are things that need doing that I am not getting done standing here."
Issa further solidifies her composure with a clearing of her throat, her tone drained of emotion when she says, "He'll be in the infirmary I imagine." A second of silence, her hands lifting to straighten her tunic and jacket over her stomach before returning to those same pockets. "Go. Go do what you need to do," she urges softly, quietly, while keeping her same spot, keeping a close watch on the goldrider's expression.
There is no expression to speak of really. Miniyal has settled her features into the sort of neutral, withdrawn look that she has had turns to perfect. It's the kind of look that should probably lead to some concerns, but there is nothing wrong with it and so it is going to have to be allowed as she is not likely to speak of what goes on behind it. The weyrling draws herself up and salutes, bereft of a thinking brain it is lacking in nothing. "Ma'am." A step back that has her bumping into the dragon behind her. For her trouble she gets just a light nudge to her leg as Peloth rises up, prepared it would seem, to follow her rider. And so they walk slowly across the floor together, the smaller figure trying to pretend she doesn't mean to stand so close to the larger it is almost impossible for them to walk. Before they step into the bowl a large gold head cranes around so she might fix the other woman with a look. To interpret that look Issa will have to wait for Oshisyth to pass along the message sent to her by Peloth with the little spot of her mind not wholly occupied with tending her rider. << Tell her I handle it. It is not time yet for anyone else to worry. >> It is not a comforting statement, but she does not mean it as such so all is well.
Raw comfort seeps from Oshisyth, heavy cotton softness pouring from her mindtouch as she responds quietly, << She will worry anyway. But I will tell her. >> Issa watches on silently, a still statue in the middle of the enormous cavern. She waits until the weyrling pair are out of sight before a hand escapes its confinement and lifts to rub a heavy touch across her forehead. << Issa says, let her cry, >> is the last from Oshisyth, secretive and almost a whisper, before the touch retreats. The wingsecond then directs her leaden steps toward the office, to tend to the work of the day that has only just begun.
Where: Weyrling complex
When: Morning on the 21st day of month 10, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: One can only guess that Issa drew the short straw. She appears early in the morning to deliver the bad news to Miniyal.
5/20/2007
There are some weyrlings, still, who have to be rolled out of bed in the morning and barely have time to be ready for all they must do before their day truly starts. There are other weyrlings who do not need such assistance. In one particular case it is because she has not actually been to sleep at all. It is not unusual for Miniyal to be awake and dressed and up and ready before the rest of the barracks has even realised the day has started. Not unusual because she has long grown used to giving up on attempts at sleep to start her day. And so, while weyrlings roll out of their cots and dragons sleepily wake to a new day, weyrling weyrwoman and her gold are already up. Miniyal sits on her cot, brushing out damp hair in preparation for its daily braiding. If she snuck out to bathe early it was early enough to still be blissfully ignorant of anything that has happened. Nearby, Peloth divides attention between her rider and the rest of the sluggish group stumbling around like Pernese zombies.
It looks like Issa is back from the half rest day she took yesterday, and back earlier than is normal. The wakeup call, after all, isn't for another half an hour yet. So reserved still and careful that the sound of her worn boots doesn't interrupt the needed sleep of the others, she slips down the main aisle of the cots. Closer, her face plays out the same prudence, as if the slightest squint or smile might disrupt the entire aura of laziness that lies heavily over the barracks. "Morning," the greenrider murmurs as she nears the goldrider's cot, and judging by the snorer next to her, the greeting is for Miniyal alone. Her mouth opens to add more, but her breath stalls and slips out as a sigh instead, her hands clenching tighter to her bulging belly from their spot in her jacket pockets.
While she is used to getting up early, she is not used to being approached early and so the braiding falters and hands still on her hair, Miniyal looks up at the assistant weyrlingmaster with a puzzled expression. "Ma'am?" Then she has to shift her hold on her braid so she might salute. Although she doesn't stand as she does it. One can only expect so much from her. Formalities out of the way she returns to her braiding as Peloth's attention shifts wholly back towards her rider and the woman standing by her. "Don't tell me there's a rule now about not being awake before everyone else. Because if there is I'm fucked." She sounds almost amused.
Even in the training cavern, Issa has never been more than casually attendant to the respectful salutes of the weyrlings, and this one she gives her standard flick of release before the hand dives back into her pocket. Her expression stirs to offer a smile for the near-amusement present in Miniyal's tone, but it's nothing near her normal cheer. She is not happy, for one reason or another. "No, no," she assures in a voice much softer and kinder than her stiffness would predict, "you're not... you're not in trouble." A glance is cast over the nearby lumps in their cots and couches. "Would you walk with me?" Hands restricted to her jacket, she gestures toward the empty training cavern with a slight jerk of her chin.
The last words to be trusted, ever, are ones like 'you're not in trouble.' So, when she hears them the weyrling stiffens and looks down at her lap. Maybe it's just guilt for any number of things she likely has done and /should/ be in trouble for. Whatever the case, one braid is tied off and the other is hurriedly done up, messy, but better than only half one's hair being tied up. Rising to her feet she looks around. "They're not going to wake up, ma'am. Not unless you're planning on yelling. But, you're the boss." With a look over her shoulder at the gold watching this new development Miniyal departs then for the cavern outside the barracks with her own hands, now free of hair, finding their way into the pockets of her pants.
The wingsecond mirrors Miniyal's step as they make their way out to the larger cavern and even her posture to some degree with her trapped hands remaining firmly that way. And maybe she isn't to be trusted, for not often in their encounters has Issa been so quiet. It isn't until they're out of earshot from the barracks and far into the wide space of the training cavern that she breaks from her distraction, raises her eyes from the floor in front of their feet and says, "I need to tell you something," with her voice kept quiet and on an even keel. Her steps slow and eventually stop in the sighing pause that follows and she waits for Miniyal to follow suit before she continues. "Late last night," she says somewhat haltingly, her eyes soft and steady on the goldrider's, "something happened. Gans... he must have been visiting, or... Miniyal," her eyes dart down again before lifting, her expression tensing, "Gans is dead."
If they are walking, then they walk. Miniyal suppresses what curiosity exists, allowing it only to show in a slight shine of her eyes as she watches Issa. When the greenrider's steps slow so do hers and she comes to a stop as her expression turns oh, so carefully neutral at that first sentence. If there was any lingering trace of amusement or, even possibly, hope that today would not be so terrible as she has to expect it vanishes behind a careful mask as she stands still and listens to what is said. The halting way the other woman speaks only makes it worse. It's not like her, after all, who has always seemed so sure and confident. Still, even with warnings there was no way Miniyal could have anticipated the news just delivered to her. A breath escapes that might have been thinking of turning into a sob, but is not allowed to do so. Instead, Miniyal just closes her eyes for a minute as she says the only thing that she can think to say. "Oh." And the only indication that her calm external facade is so obviously fake is the sound of talons on stone in the other room followed by the appearance of Peloth whose rapidly whirling eyes see nothing but her rider as she sends sand flying everywhere in her haste to make it across the floor. And even if the gold's attention is only on her, Miniyal must move her brain elsewhere. "Has his mother been notified? Do you know? And Lord Anshuman. And, and, Kazimir. If messengers have been sent already I should like to send a note along once I've had a chance to write one. If they have not would I have time to do so? There are probably others, of course, but I can't think of them." A little leak of puzzlement follows this admission. As if she can't understand why she would not be able to think right now.
Issa can hear the gold rushing their way surely, but her eyes drag only slightly to the side of Miniyal's face, only her ears allowed to track the progress. The greenrider stands still to let the young dragon arrange herself as she wishes, but only watches Miniyal as the whole list spills from her mouth. "Everything will be taken care of, I'm sure," she murmurs, the expression around her eyes tensing even further. "You have the day, and any after it that you need," she assures the weyrling softly. A moment falls motionless between them then one of Issa's hands slips free of her jacket, slipping around Miniyal's shoulder, only to be followed by the other as she closes the weyrling in a hug that's firm enough to be a barrier to any minor protesting movements. That close she'll be able to notice the greenrider's small sniff and the swallow she forces down her throat.
"I should- We were. It's expected. That I send-" Never one for doing well at spilling for full sentences Miniyal seems to be having even more trouble at the moment. "Letters must be written. It is the proper thing to do." There, propriety to the rescue. Behind her Peloth settles still as stone just close enough that should her rider wish to reach behind her she might find a warm golden hide waiting for her. As still as she is the dragon is rivaled by her rider who does not move when hugged. It is only when her brain might point out that small sniff one of Miniyal's hands will emerge from a pocket to awkwardly pat the other rider's shoulder. "I will not need. It will only take a few hours to make arrangements to store what needs storing. And go through his correspondence. I shall have to send his class notes to- So they might be used or at least seen by the next. . .I shall arrange it all today. Thank you."
Issa's hands pull back to rest atop Miniyal's shoulders and when she looks Miniyal straight in the eyes there's a bit of moisture swimming in her own, a show of emotion that's quickly blinked away. "Well, you're not allowed to be at drills or lessons today, so you'll have plenty of time. And if you don't want to sleep in the barracks tonight, just have her tell Oshisyth." Peloth gets a glance, a nod. Her hands peel away as she looks back, and a mere step of distance falls between them again, Issa swiftly regaining the flat composure she began with. Except for her voice, which remains soft and fraught with tremors. "Miniyal, I'm sorry. I really am."
Miniyal returns her hand to her pocket as, once Issa steps away, Peloth closes that short distance between herself and her rider and would allow, if said rider thought of it, something to lean against. Instead, the weyrling just nods her head once. "Thank you, ma'am. I am sure we will be fine in the barracks tonight. I will take care of everything today." A slow blink and then she focuses on a spot once more behind and to one side of the greenrider's head. "I should-" Again she stops and this time one of her hands does emerge from a pocket to find Peloth and rest flat against her neck. "I should be getting to what needs doing, ma'am. Is he? I mean, where? I should like to say goodbye. And I must visit my parents to be sure they know I am fine and then-. Well, there are things that need doing that I am not getting done standing here."
Issa further solidifies her composure with a clearing of her throat, her tone drained of emotion when she says, "He'll be in the infirmary I imagine." A second of silence, her hands lifting to straighten her tunic and jacket over her stomach before returning to those same pockets. "Go. Go do what you need to do," she urges softly, quietly, while keeping her same spot, keeping a close watch on the goldrider's expression.
There is no expression to speak of really. Miniyal has settled her features into the sort of neutral, withdrawn look that she has had turns to perfect. It's the kind of look that should probably lead to some concerns, but there is nothing wrong with it and so it is going to have to be allowed as she is not likely to speak of what goes on behind it. The weyrling draws herself up and salutes, bereft of a thinking brain it is lacking in nothing. "Ma'am." A step back that has her bumping into the dragon behind her. For her trouble she gets just a light nudge to her leg as Peloth rises up, prepared it would seem, to follow her rider. And so they walk slowly across the floor together, the smaller figure trying to pretend she doesn't mean to stand so close to the larger it is almost impossible for them to walk. Before they step into the bowl a large gold head cranes around so she might fix the other woman with a look. To interpret that look Issa will have to wait for Oshisyth to pass along the message sent to her by Peloth with the little spot of her mind not wholly occupied with tending her rider. << Tell her I handle it. It is not time yet for anyone else to worry. >> It is not a comforting statement, but she does not mean it as such so all is well.
Raw comfort seeps from Oshisyth, heavy cotton softness pouring from her mindtouch as she responds quietly, << She will worry anyway. But I will tell her. >> Issa watches on silently, a still statue in the middle of the enormous cavern. She waits until the weyrling pair are out of sight before a hand escapes its confinement and lifts to rub a heavy touch across her forehead. << Issa says, let her cry, >> is the last from Oshisyth, secretive and almost a whisper, before the touch retreats. The wingsecond then directs her leaden steps toward the office, to tend to the work of the day that has only just begun.