Four Is Less Than Five
Location: Sefton's Room
Time: Evening on Day 3, Month 13, Turn 2
Players: Sefton and Roa
Scene: Roa needs something and Sefton is happy to help. No, really.
They are not always kept these days, Sefton and Roa's appointments. Nevertheless, the Headmaster is in his quarters, lest the weyrwoman choose to take advantage of her appointed slot. He has even food, as has become his custom, although he is already eating one of the sandwiches as he stares up at his bookshelf, as disheveled as ever.
Not only is this appointment kept, but it is kept punctually. There are three quick knocks at the slightly open door before Roa slips in and nudges the door closed with one foot. She makes her way over to the couch to sink down onto it, bending over to undo her laces and kick off her boots. "I'm highly stressed," the weyrwoman informs the Headmaster languidly. "My work is suffering and arguably so is my health. You're going to override my protestations and make me leave the weyr for a few sevens. Two or three. Depending on how long it takes for me to fully recover."
Sefton turns his head from his study of his bookshelves to watch her enter, then turns around entirely to track her progress, leaning back against a shelf to rest broad shoulders there, his free hand coming up to rake his curls back from his eyes. "Kel will be delighted," he drawls in lazy reply, and by way of greeting. "Would you like a sandwich? They're excellent."
"Mmm," Roa notes in regards to Kelar's delight. She herself looks, well, marginally less delighted. Her legs have tucked up onto the couch and she's leaning against the arm rest and regarding Sefton with a faint sigh. "I wouldn't mind a sandwich." Her head cants a bit to the side. "Aida?"
"Aida," Sefton agrees cheerfully, stuffing the rest of his in his mouth, and pushing away from the shelves so he can cross over and claim the plate. Chew, chew, swallow, speak. "There's some sort of chutney involved," he reports. "It's really very good." And with one of his easy grins, he drops to a crouch before her, presenting the plate as though waiting upon one who far outranks him. "You do look particularly stressed," he agrees belatedly, subjecting her to a cursory inspection.
"Oh, what else is new," Roa chuckles with a shrug. A half of a sandwich is scooped up with one hand and the other one gives Sefton's irritating curls an irritating flick. "So. Topic tonight?" She takes a bite and chews slowly. After swallowing she murmurs, "Not sure what chutney is, exactly, but I seem to like it."
"It's a sort of jam," Sefton replies, giving his head an immediate shake to coax his irritating curls back into his eyes, and remaining crouched where he is. "Without the sugar, I should hazard a guess. Savoury." He claims another sandwich of his own, then glance across to the closed door. "You've chosen our topic, Roa. Explain to me why I'm not doing something foolish."
"It has to do with the queens," she begins, not bothering to hide her smirk as the Headmaster corrects his hair. "I have a theory. About why nobody's rising, and this will help me prove it. Or, if not, will help me to feel like I'm doing something." Roa has another bite of sandwich, and etiquette lessons demand she swallow before she speaks again. "There's too many of them."
Sefton is similarly plagued with drilled-in manners, so the conversation continues apace with chewing and swallowing. "Too many," he echoes, drawing the words out, his drawl creating new vowels where there were none. "So you remove her to a place where there are fewer. What prompts the theory?"
The delays are perhaps becoming a nuisance. Or at least, Roa's delays are, as she abstains from more sandwich before she speaks again. "When Miniyal was still in my employ, I asked her to do some research into it." Now a bite, chewing, swallowing. "There seems to be a sort of pattern in how queens rise and how often. They rotate and time it. Not consciously, I don't think. I think that the number of queens at High Reaches means that the rhythm here is markedly slower than it should be."
"Miniyal," Sefton murmurs, echoing the woman's name in a manner that would no doubt render her nervous, hostile, or some combination of the two. To a greater degree than he already does by his mere existence. "I want her for a student, one day." Roa's theory is not complicated, and the Headmaster is not unaccustomed to absorbing new ideas -- after a moment, he nods. "So they're allowing for clutches that are never laid here. I follow. You have evidence that they break the pattern when they depart?" She does, and his dark eyes gleam suddenly -- he's remembered.
"Don't push Miniyal," comes Roa's solemn advice. "I mean it. Don't. She likes secrets and she knows how to find them. So don't." But then her lips quirk faintly. Her only answer to that question is single word: "Twice." And then the last of the sandwich is polished off.
That solemn advice is taken solemnly, Sefton's easy grin shifting to a faint frown. He claims another sandwich, then lifts himself to his feet, although only so he can turn and sink down onto the couch beside her. "Noted," he murmurs, and Miniyal is dismissed. "Twice'll do," he agrees. “I can see how such a realisation might be very stressful. A holiday seems in order."
She tips her head as he shifts onto the couch, his one word note making her nod. "Now, are you ready for the fun part?" Roa asks, and if she's trying to look mirthful, it doesn't quite work. She more looks tired.
"Mmmmm." Sefton has his doubts, and that long hum announces it, as close as he'll come to speaking until he's disposed of most of his sandwich. "I think I'd better keep eating. Tell me the fun part, if you will."
"Five queens is an unusual number," Roa murmurs, leaning her head back again and closing her eyes. "Tialith, Aneleth, Citalth, Vasyath, and Chelinth." She draws a slow breath in through her nose and out again. "Four is perfectly typical."
“Indeed," Sefton agrees slowly. "There was Nenuith as well for a time, and Ulyath. That was seven." He lifts his sandwich, but does not bite, this time -- his tone is absent, and he's thinking. "If you are correct, some solution must be sought."
"No," Roa begins slowly. "I mean yes, but that's not my point. My point is it seems to take a few sevens before a gold adjusts from one setting to another. The same time that Tialith would need, so would any other queen. Five is too many. Four is not."
"Then what is it you propose?" Sefton drawls his question, and bites down on his sandwich.
A small shake of her head before Roa sighs. "Nothing. This. Going. It's the best I can come up with. Unless you have some means of getting some other goldrider to pay High Reaches a visit for a few sevens while I'm gone."
Sefton appears to give this question serious consideration, tipping his head back to study the ceiling. "Certainly, Ginella and Magaly must stay," he observes thoughtfully. "Turnover is coming. Ginella will stay if she can, I expect. Her brownrider is here. Magaly, I will bog down with some assignment. As for another..." He trails off, drawl thoughtful.
"Citalth won't leave if I'm gone. She can't, really anyhow, as Sinopa's acting senior. I can't see why Lexine would leave. But, who would come? So." Roa huffs faintly, "an even playing field for all involved. But at least it seems more likely that -some-thing will happen."
Sefton snorts, quick to shake his head. "The only ones willing to play on an even playing field are those for whom anything else is impossible," he replies. "Or fools. There are plenty of queens out there. I should know, I've had to dance with their riders time and again. Do you really say none of them can be invited? There is nobody here who could find a reason, and would oblige you?"
"D'ven, possibly, but he has no pull at Benden," Roa considers. "Lexine may. I think she'd prefer me to Sinopa, and she has connections at..." the weyrwoman frowns abruptly. "no. Scratch that. No. Ginella...I don't think she'd be willing to get quite -that- involved. G'thon, but I don't think he has the connections any longer."
"Lexine might seek the company," Sefton agrees thoughtfully. "Ginella would be better. You should lean on her, see if anything comes of it. I will, if you like, but I suspect," and here his lips quirk, "that you might engender more trust. If D'ven would help you, then he is a Bendenite. Have him help with Ginella."
"I'm already leaning on Ginella. I don't want to ask for more. She's helping me with the queens, keeping Aneleth here past the time she's due to rise to see what will happen. I don't think I can ask her to bring another weyrwoman over to keep things as they are, as well." Roa smirks dryly. "A pity Diya doesn't suddenly have a clash of conscience and return home," she says with a flat laugh.
Sefton snickers, breaking off a piece of his sandwich, rolling it into a small ball, then tossing it sideways at her head. "Sew your lips shut," he admonishes, richly amused. "I still say you would be better finding someone to issue an invitation. If you will not, then I will load Ginella and Magaly down with work, to see that they do not take it into their heads that they have free time to depart."
Her eyes open as something small bops the side of her head and then, glancing down, Roa laughs. The bit of bread is picked up and she says, "I haven't the time. I need to go soon. And if Magaly and Ginella stay, that still only leaves four. Say 'ah'." Roa holds the bread bit in such a way that it is clear she intends to toss it back.
Sefton doesn't really provide time to do much, when he obliges. "Ah, whatever will we do," he murmurs, light years away from the panicked tone that ought properly accompany the words. "Four is better than two, or three," he continues. "Or it might be, at any rate. Four must share out the same amount of time as two, or three. Perhaps if one has the same time all to herself, she might oblige more quickly."
As the 'ah' is too short, the bread instead flies towards Sefton's head with nowhere to go but his face. "That's the thought, at any rate. And the sooner I go, the more time between now and turnover which means the more time before you need to piss off a pair of your students." Roa dusts off her hands. "Poor Kelar."
"They send you here to learn manners, you know," the Headmaster drawls lazily, reaching up to swat the bread away. "I had not the benefit of a Caucus education, of course, but I am sure you should know better." He exhales slowly, puffing out his cheeks. "Tomorrow then, Roa. I will write you a letter for Kel, and you can collect it in the morning. I should not waste much time pitying him. He will be delighted."
The weyrwoman bites her lower lip. Tomorrow. Oh. That seems to take the smirk from her lips and whatever witty retort she might have offered for Sefton's accusation out of her mouth. "The day after tomorrow," Roa requests quietly. "And tomorrow off to get my affairs in order."
"As you like," Sefton replies, pausing to polish off the last of his sandwich. "The day after tomorrow."
A slow breath is drawn in and Roa's shoulders square. She nods. "Good. All right. Thank you for this." One hand lifts to rub at her face. "Any other topics tonight?"
"I'd say you've enough to be going on with," Sefton replies, waving the plate in her direction. "Have another sandwich, and get on your way. I shall be sending some books with you when you go. It would be unfair, to deprive you of the homework the others will suffer. I shall be along to Boll at some point myself. I need to go through the library. Perhaps you will not be at the Hold proper, though." A wave of his hand dismisses such questions. "Good night, weyrwoman."
A hand waves away the offered sandwich though a faint smile is offered in an attempt to soften the gesture. "I'll stop by then, for homework, books, and mysterious destinations." Roa squirms forward and bends down to slip her feet into her boots. Those seen to, she rises to a stand. "Goodnight. Headmaster." And the smile becomes a smirk before she makes for the door.
Time: Evening on Day 3, Month 13, Turn 2
Players: Sefton and Roa
Scene: Roa needs something and Sefton is happy to help. No, really.
They are not always kept these days, Sefton and Roa's appointments. Nevertheless, the Headmaster is in his quarters, lest the weyrwoman choose to take advantage of her appointed slot. He has even food, as has become his custom, although he is already eating one of the sandwiches as he stares up at his bookshelf, as disheveled as ever.
Not only is this appointment kept, but it is kept punctually. There are three quick knocks at the slightly open door before Roa slips in and nudges the door closed with one foot. She makes her way over to the couch to sink down onto it, bending over to undo her laces and kick off her boots. "I'm highly stressed," the weyrwoman informs the Headmaster languidly. "My work is suffering and arguably so is my health. You're going to override my protestations and make me leave the weyr for a few sevens. Two or three. Depending on how long it takes for me to fully recover."
Sefton turns his head from his study of his bookshelves to watch her enter, then turns around entirely to track her progress, leaning back against a shelf to rest broad shoulders there, his free hand coming up to rake his curls back from his eyes. "Kel will be delighted," he drawls in lazy reply, and by way of greeting. "Would you like a sandwich? They're excellent."
"Mmm," Roa notes in regards to Kelar's delight. She herself looks, well, marginally less delighted. Her legs have tucked up onto the couch and she's leaning against the arm rest and regarding Sefton with a faint sigh. "I wouldn't mind a sandwich." Her head cants a bit to the side. "Aida?"
"Aida," Sefton agrees cheerfully, stuffing the rest of his in his mouth, and pushing away from the shelves so he can cross over and claim the plate. Chew, chew, swallow, speak. "There's some sort of chutney involved," he reports. "It's really very good." And with one of his easy grins, he drops to a crouch before her, presenting the plate as though waiting upon one who far outranks him. "You do look particularly stressed," he agrees belatedly, subjecting her to a cursory inspection.
"Oh, what else is new," Roa chuckles with a shrug. A half of a sandwich is scooped up with one hand and the other one gives Sefton's irritating curls an irritating flick. "So. Topic tonight?" She takes a bite and chews slowly. After swallowing she murmurs, "Not sure what chutney is, exactly, but I seem to like it."
"It's a sort of jam," Sefton replies, giving his head an immediate shake to coax his irritating curls back into his eyes, and remaining crouched where he is. "Without the sugar, I should hazard a guess. Savoury." He claims another sandwich of his own, then glance across to the closed door. "You've chosen our topic, Roa. Explain to me why I'm not doing something foolish."
"It has to do with the queens," she begins, not bothering to hide her smirk as the Headmaster corrects his hair. "I have a theory. About why nobody's rising, and this will help me prove it. Or, if not, will help me to feel like I'm doing something." Roa has another bite of sandwich, and etiquette lessons demand she swallow before she speaks again. "There's too many of them."
Sefton is similarly plagued with drilled-in manners, so the conversation continues apace with chewing and swallowing. "Too many," he echoes, drawing the words out, his drawl creating new vowels where there were none. "So you remove her to a place where there are fewer. What prompts the theory?"
The delays are perhaps becoming a nuisance. Or at least, Roa's delays are, as she abstains from more sandwich before she speaks again. "When Miniyal was still in my employ, I asked her to do some research into it." Now a bite, chewing, swallowing. "There seems to be a sort of pattern in how queens rise and how often. They rotate and time it. Not consciously, I don't think. I think that the number of queens at High Reaches means that the rhythm here is markedly slower than it should be."
"Miniyal," Sefton murmurs, echoing the woman's name in a manner that would no doubt render her nervous, hostile, or some combination of the two. To a greater degree than he already does by his mere existence. "I want her for a student, one day." Roa's theory is not complicated, and the Headmaster is not unaccustomed to absorbing new ideas -- after a moment, he nods. "So they're allowing for clutches that are never laid here. I follow. You have evidence that they break the pattern when they depart?" She does, and his dark eyes gleam suddenly -- he's remembered.
"Don't push Miniyal," comes Roa's solemn advice. "I mean it. Don't. She likes secrets and she knows how to find them. So don't." But then her lips quirk faintly. Her only answer to that question is single word: "Twice." And then the last of the sandwich is polished off.
That solemn advice is taken solemnly, Sefton's easy grin shifting to a faint frown. He claims another sandwich, then lifts himself to his feet, although only so he can turn and sink down onto the couch beside her. "Noted," he murmurs, and Miniyal is dismissed. "Twice'll do," he agrees. “I can see how such a realisation might be very stressful. A holiday seems in order."
She tips her head as he shifts onto the couch, his one word note making her nod. "Now, are you ready for the fun part?" Roa asks, and if she's trying to look mirthful, it doesn't quite work. She more looks tired.
"Mmmmm." Sefton has his doubts, and that long hum announces it, as close as he'll come to speaking until he's disposed of most of his sandwich. "I think I'd better keep eating. Tell me the fun part, if you will."
"Five queens is an unusual number," Roa murmurs, leaning her head back again and closing her eyes. "Tialith, Aneleth, Citalth, Vasyath, and Chelinth." She draws a slow breath in through her nose and out again. "Four is perfectly typical."
“Indeed," Sefton agrees slowly. "There was Nenuith as well for a time, and Ulyath. That was seven." He lifts his sandwich, but does not bite, this time -- his tone is absent, and he's thinking. "If you are correct, some solution must be sought."
"No," Roa begins slowly. "I mean yes, but that's not my point. My point is it seems to take a few sevens before a gold adjusts from one setting to another. The same time that Tialith would need, so would any other queen. Five is too many. Four is not."
"Then what is it you propose?" Sefton drawls his question, and bites down on his sandwich.
A small shake of her head before Roa sighs. "Nothing. This. Going. It's the best I can come up with. Unless you have some means of getting some other goldrider to pay High Reaches a visit for a few sevens while I'm gone."
Sefton appears to give this question serious consideration, tipping his head back to study the ceiling. "Certainly, Ginella and Magaly must stay," he observes thoughtfully. "Turnover is coming. Ginella will stay if she can, I expect. Her brownrider is here. Magaly, I will bog down with some assignment. As for another..." He trails off, drawl thoughtful.
"Citalth won't leave if I'm gone. She can't, really anyhow, as Sinopa's acting senior. I can't see why Lexine would leave. But, who would come? So." Roa huffs faintly, "an even playing field for all involved. But at least it seems more likely that -some-thing will happen."
Sefton snorts, quick to shake his head. "The only ones willing to play on an even playing field are those for whom anything else is impossible," he replies. "Or fools. There are plenty of queens out there. I should know, I've had to dance with their riders time and again. Do you really say none of them can be invited? There is nobody here who could find a reason, and would oblige you?"
"D'ven, possibly, but he has no pull at Benden," Roa considers. "Lexine may. I think she'd prefer me to Sinopa, and she has connections at..." the weyrwoman frowns abruptly. "no. Scratch that. No. Ginella...I don't think she'd be willing to get quite -that- involved. G'thon, but I don't think he has the connections any longer."
"Lexine might seek the company," Sefton agrees thoughtfully. "Ginella would be better. You should lean on her, see if anything comes of it. I will, if you like, but I suspect," and here his lips quirk, "that you might engender more trust. If D'ven would help you, then he is a Bendenite. Have him help with Ginella."
"I'm already leaning on Ginella. I don't want to ask for more. She's helping me with the queens, keeping Aneleth here past the time she's due to rise to see what will happen. I don't think I can ask her to bring another weyrwoman over to keep things as they are, as well." Roa smirks dryly. "A pity Diya doesn't suddenly have a clash of conscience and return home," she says with a flat laugh.
Sefton snickers, breaking off a piece of his sandwich, rolling it into a small ball, then tossing it sideways at her head. "Sew your lips shut," he admonishes, richly amused. "I still say you would be better finding someone to issue an invitation. If you will not, then I will load Ginella and Magaly down with work, to see that they do not take it into their heads that they have free time to depart."
Her eyes open as something small bops the side of her head and then, glancing down, Roa laughs. The bit of bread is picked up and she says, "I haven't the time. I need to go soon. And if Magaly and Ginella stay, that still only leaves four. Say 'ah'." Roa holds the bread bit in such a way that it is clear she intends to toss it back.
Sefton doesn't really provide time to do much, when he obliges. "Ah, whatever will we do," he murmurs, light years away from the panicked tone that ought properly accompany the words. "Four is better than two, or three," he continues. "Or it might be, at any rate. Four must share out the same amount of time as two, or three. Perhaps if one has the same time all to herself, she might oblige more quickly."
As the 'ah' is too short, the bread instead flies towards Sefton's head with nowhere to go but his face. "That's the thought, at any rate. And the sooner I go, the more time between now and turnover which means the more time before you need to piss off a pair of your students." Roa dusts off her hands. "Poor Kelar."
"They send you here to learn manners, you know," the Headmaster drawls lazily, reaching up to swat the bread away. "I had not the benefit of a Caucus education, of course, but I am sure you should know better." He exhales slowly, puffing out his cheeks. "Tomorrow then, Roa. I will write you a letter for Kel, and you can collect it in the morning. I should not waste much time pitying him. He will be delighted."
The weyrwoman bites her lower lip. Tomorrow. Oh. That seems to take the smirk from her lips and whatever witty retort she might have offered for Sefton's accusation out of her mouth. "The day after tomorrow," Roa requests quietly. "And tomorrow off to get my affairs in order."
"As you like," Sefton replies, pausing to polish off the last of his sandwich. "The day after tomorrow."
A slow breath is drawn in and Roa's shoulders square. She nods. "Good. All right. Thank you for this." One hand lifts to rub at her face. "Any other topics tonight?"
"I'd say you've enough to be going on with," Sefton replies, waving the plate in her direction. "Have another sandwich, and get on your way. I shall be sending some books with you when you go. It would be unfair, to deprive you of the homework the others will suffer. I shall be along to Boll at some point myself. I need to go through the library. Perhaps you will not be at the Hold proper, though." A wave of his hand dismisses such questions. "Good night, weyrwoman."
A hand waves away the offered sandwich though a faint smile is offered in an attempt to soften the gesture. "I'll stop by then, for homework, books, and mysterious destinations." Roa squirms forward and bends down to slip her feet into her boots. Those seen to, she rises to a stand. "Goodnight. Headmaster." And the smile becomes a smirk before she makes for the door.