What Will Change
Location: North Weyr
Time: Evening on Day 9, Month 11, Turn 3
Players: Roa and R'en
Scene: R'en takes what he's learned and brings it to Roa. Things go well if by 'well' one means 'very very badly'.
Late evening, after dinner, finds the weyrwoman working in her weyr. She seems to be in the process of composing a letter, except that she will not sit down at all. Rather, Roa paces and swings around to her desk, adding a few lines to the hide settled there before stepping away again.
A well-fed R'en, at least, comes to find Roa in her lai-- weyr. Maybe there's a knock at first to at least signal his coming, but he doesn't wait for an allowance. What he does so is peek around - is she here, is she decent? - and then try to look more confident when he strides over to her and her desk to stop, fold his arms, and wait. There he is.
There he is. Roa notes him as he steps inside with a nod, though her circuit continues unbroken and she loops around towards her desk as he settles there. She holds up her hand, curled into a fist save for a finger that points to the sky (one moment, please) and jots down a final couple lines before turning more properly towards R'en and offering a small and worn smile. "Hullo," she says.
"Hey," he says, giving her a less tired and worn but still small smile. There's silence after that and R'en's eyebrow goes up when he puts his eyes to the side. Yep. "Didn't really think about someone so close t'her bein' the one." Pause. "You doin' okay?"
"Didn't really figure on -him- being the one," Roa says with a small sigh and the rolling of her shoulders. "I thought I knew him a little. I thought..." she shakes her head. "It doesn't matter. I'm all right enough. How're you doing?"
Somehow 'all right enough' doesn't sit well enough with R'en. /He/ didn't know /him/, but he can see the impact if he lacks feeling it. He looks down, at his boots, and shrugs his own shoulder. "All right enough." His eyes lift to watch her through the bit of hair. "You wanna hug?"
The question calls up another smile, this one curling one corner of Roa's mouth higher than the other. "Guess I might, at that," the weyrwoman admits as her head ducks down. "I don't know that you can reach all the way around me these days, though."
"But I think you know I'm gonna try anyway." After ducking his head to try to catch her eye, give her the little smile he has for her, R'en takes a couple of shuffling steps to her and reaches both arms carefully. Clearly he's making a show of trying to get them around her, tilting his head up and poking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth. Finally he has both long limbs 'round and, grunting, heaves a sigh. He's opted for a side-hug, see, which really doesn't turn out to be all that awkward.
For his 'attempts' at reaching, R'en gets an amused snicker, and for his hug, he gets slender arms wrapping around him in return. The weyrwoman heaves a small sigh, eyes closing for a moment. "Came to check up on me?" she asks with another soft chuckle. "Supposed to my job, I think, considering."
"Mm," is his agreement, his chin atop her head. After she makes her comment he's silent for a handful of seconds. Then, "Considerin' you sent my sister t'the one place in the world I'd wanna keep her away from?" It's soft and gentle, no trace of anger or suspicion, and he doesn't move to ruin the hug.
Her breath stops, is held, is exhaled slowly after a beat. "No. I meant considering you're a weyrling and I'm meant to, you know, be advisory to weyrlings. How'd you find out where she went?" Roa doesn't pull away, but there is a slow stiffening of her muscles.
Above her, R'en looks straight ahead, emotionless. He answers. "You just told me." Or, really, confirmed it for him. Which is /almost/ the same. He doesn't pull away either. Maybe it's the closeness, he's hoping it'll make this okay. "Didn't tell me sooner. Wanted t'wait 'til she got hurt'r killed? Usually how it goes around here."
"Didn't tell you because she asked me not to and because I didn't want you upset when there was no need. She's fine. She's fine. Waiting, but fine." Roa worries her bottom lip, her own gaze settled on where her hand rests on R'en arm.
"Huh." It's more an exhalation of a breath, a movement in his stomach that might nudge at her a bit. "Woulda told me before." But before what? He doesn't elaborate. "Who'd she ask?" Yes, he knows his sister.
"And what'll you do, now that you know?" is Roa's quiet question. "Both of us." Who she asked.
"Both o'you." It's flat, emotionless. "She call for a meetin', or...?" What'll he do? R'en doesn't say. Maybe he didn't hear her, she's so small, see.
"We were looking for someone. She asked it to be her," Roa answers. And then, again, "What'll you do now?"
"What you expect me t'do. What you've always expected me t'do. Sit here'n let you lie t'me." There's a sigh, slow and careful not to disrupt her, and he adds, "He was in on this, then, I guess."
Her hands shift and then push so that the little weyrwoman can worm her way free of the hug she suddenly no longer wishes to be a part of. "You make it sound like I'm out to hurt you. Or that I find this fun. There was no 'in on'."
If she initiates it, he won't fight. R'en's arms fall away and now, useless, hang at his sides. "Can't say I think you're havin' fun. Wouldn't know it." Then, with a furrow between his eyebrows and a tense jaw, he says, low, "She's my /sister/, Roa. /My/ sister."
"Yes," Roa says with a sharp nod and her own arms coming up to cross tightly over her chest. She inches a step backwards. "And a greenrider of High Reaches and a grown woman who came to us and volunteered. Would you have wanted us to turn her away, purely on the basis of her blood relation to you?"
"I'd have /wanted/," and /that/ was sharp and sudden, but the next is soft, like he realized, "you t'/tell/ me." His arms don't cross. His hand moves, though, to his hair, to shove and pull harshly. "You used t'trust me."
"Do you think," Roa's chin comes up and her jaw clenches, “in the matter of sending people to Five Mines, you have any right at all to be self-righteous? -You- used to trust -me-. What happened to -that-?"
"Sendin' people t'Five Mines?" His eyebrows are up, one of those desperate grins on his face. "You won't let people send /letters/ there, you're sendin' people. For peace? The lot o'you are actin' like a good ten turns of exile's all they needed t'see the error o'their ways. Why're you lettin' 'em over here!" Then, "I trusted you 'til you became this. Now you're one o'them, willin' t'put people in danger t'serve your own purposes. What d'you want me t'do, Roa? How bad does it have t'get?"
"They're people, Jen, and they're here. If we're not flying fall over their heads, I'd like them to know it before thread's on top of them. What do you mean why're they here. They -came- here! I didn't....nobody planned this, and what, exactly are we supposed to do? Where can we send them? Nobody's ever had exiles return before." Arms still crossed tightly, Roa begins pacing again. "They're on Nabol land, so Nabol has first say. That means calling a Conclave. Now it's a Grand Conclave because they're bloody exiles on the mainland and everyone's going to have an opinion on what's to be done next. And in the meantime, whatever they're up to, at least if they're flying fall they've got less time to be up to anything. Willing to put people in danger to serve my purposes? What purposes? Diplomacy? What do you -want- us to do? Kill them? Send them away for another ten turns until they decide to come back again? Chase them off into another Weyr's territory?"
It takes a long moment for R'en to talk after that. It isn't because he's stunned into silence by her speech. In a tired voice he says, "They've got dragons over there, Roa, don't act like we're their only hope." And then, both hands flopped to his sides again, he continues. "And don't act like the world's new'n naive. They never returned before, but we surely do know what they're capable of. Before they were exiles they were instigators, weren't they." He can only watch her pace for so long; he drops his eyes to the floor. "Why're they waitin'? Over there?"
"I don't know!" Roa snaps. "How in the world would I know?! We -sent- somebody to tell them we weren't flying fall and to maybe get a bit of information while they were at it. They have dragons. One wing, half of which are newly-graduated weyrlings. They can hold Five Mines, but I'll be surprised if they can do it without--" Her nostrils flare, eyes widening as her spine shoves straight. "I know what they were," she informs the bronzerider, soft and intent. "I know very well what they were. Don't have to remind me."
For all of that he only has, "What's my sister waitin' for over there? How long 'til she can come home?" Again, he's emotionless, very much not looking at her and standing very still.
"Odern won't see her to accept her message. She can come home any bloody time she wishes, but she's decided to dig in her heels and wait for an audience. So we wait on His Lordship's inclination." One cannot say Roa's words lack bitterness.
"A month?" Now, suddenly, he's looking at her. "Been a month, ain't it?" With narrowed eyes, R'en watches. "How long d'you think their peace'll hold?"
"Yes. Four sevens." Roa takes a few more steps backwards to sink down onto the couch. "That mostly depends on what everybody's after."
"Mostly depends? So you don't know." R'en's planted his hands on his hips but they slide down again, defeated. "If I'd asked t'go, if Sehkrath weren't a part o'the equation, you wouldn't've let me."
"Probably not," Roa agrees with a weak shrug. "And you would have gone anyhow."
"But you let her go. What's that say about me?" Whether or not he would have gone isn't an issue he cares to discuss. Because yeah, he would have.
"I suppose it says your sister argues better." The smile the weyrwoman offers is just a feeble attempt. This is what a smile should look like. "If you had asked to go, it would have been personal and it would have been for keeps. She went as a representative of High Reaches with every intent of keeping herself safe and coming back home." There is a small stress on that final word.
Yes. That is what a smile should look like. R'en seems to have forgotten how to make one of his own. "Keeps?" Out of all of that, /that/ is the one word that seems to have caught his attention.
Roa adds nothing more to the conversation than a single arched brow. A wordless dare that he deny it.
If daring is what she's looking for. "You mean like I woulda stayed? Or they woulda kept me?" It's suddenly very important.
"Yes," Roa gives a single, small nod to further underline her word.
In another situation, he would grin at her for that. Right now, he just looks exasperated. "Pick one," he grits out.
"You would have stayed. To save us or trip them up or...I don't know. Something. Something that ruins your life in the expectation that that'll somehow fix all of ours, never mind that we don't want anything fixed in such a manner." Roa crosses her ankles and dips her chin down to stare at them, frowning when she realizes that she can't. Hi, bump.
"Sittin' around'n waitin' is much better in comparison." Pause. Hi, bump. "I've never wanted t'die." That's cheery. "But at least I've come t'terms with the fact that someday it's gonna happen. And I'd rather it happen for a good reason."
"And I'd rather you didn't pack up and head off away from all your friends and family at the first sign of trouble, all the while saying it's the right thing to do," Roa counters. "We're not sitting around and waiting. We can't do anything alone. They're Pern's exiles. Pern, all together, gets to decide what happens next."
"All the friends who keep things from me so I don't do anything crazy? You're sayin' I can't do what I do t'keep you'n the rest o'the people I care about safe, but you're sittin' there tellin' me you can? Not only you can, but you did." 'All together' makes him snort and look away, but only for a second. "All o'Pern's richest, you mean. How many cotholders're on that Grand Conclave o'yours? Farmers'n kitchenhands. How many o'them're gonna be puttin' their hand in t'decide if they wanna let those people stay here're not?"
"You know, for someone who claims not to like the Instigators much, you sure talk a whole lot like them." Roa shoves up from the couch again with a faint grunt and pacing resumes. "Don't start acting all high and mighty. Don't you dare say I did anything you haven't done yourself."
"Never claimed I didn't think theirs was a good idea. Just that it got outta hand. And history repeats itself more'n I'd like. I also fail t'see how I'm bein' at all high'n mighty." He's watching her pace again. "You're the one keepin' information from me 'cause you think you know what's best. But nobody can know that, Roa. Not even you. And every time in the future you do what you did's only gonna make things worse."
"Keep that in mind for the future then," Roa notes, arms crossing again. Oh, for the days she could sit down and curl up into a little ball. "So now you know this information that you didn't before, what'll change?"
Oh, for the days he could do something. What'll change? He doesn't need much time to think on it. Just, "Us." And, it seems, that's enough. R'en can't look at her anymore, can't stand there, so he turns away and walks slow so his obvious running away isn't so obvious.
His word causes a visible flinch and Roa bites her bottom lip again, frowning as the bronzerider turns away. The teeth against her lip press down harder until he's slipped out out the weyr. Her hand lifts so knuckles can dash across her eyes as she sniffs sharply and swallows once, twice. The weyrwoman stares off into the distance for a beat, not really looking at anything in particular. Then she nods again, sniffs again, and moves back to her desk to read over the half-finished letter that still has to be written.
Time: Evening on Day 9, Month 11, Turn 3
Players: Roa and R'en
Scene: R'en takes what he's learned and brings it to Roa. Things go well if by 'well' one means 'very very badly'.
Late evening, after dinner, finds the weyrwoman working in her weyr. She seems to be in the process of composing a letter, except that she will not sit down at all. Rather, Roa paces and swings around to her desk, adding a few lines to the hide settled there before stepping away again.
A well-fed R'en, at least, comes to find Roa in her lai-- weyr. Maybe there's a knock at first to at least signal his coming, but he doesn't wait for an allowance. What he does so is peek around - is she here, is she decent? - and then try to look more confident when he strides over to her and her desk to stop, fold his arms, and wait. There he is.
There he is. Roa notes him as he steps inside with a nod, though her circuit continues unbroken and she loops around towards her desk as he settles there. She holds up her hand, curled into a fist save for a finger that points to the sky (one moment, please) and jots down a final couple lines before turning more properly towards R'en and offering a small and worn smile. "Hullo," she says.
"Hey," he says, giving her a less tired and worn but still small smile. There's silence after that and R'en's eyebrow goes up when he puts his eyes to the side. Yep. "Didn't really think about someone so close t'her bein' the one." Pause. "You doin' okay?"
"Didn't really figure on -him- being the one," Roa says with a small sigh and the rolling of her shoulders. "I thought I knew him a little. I thought..." she shakes her head. "It doesn't matter. I'm all right enough. How're you doing?"
Somehow 'all right enough' doesn't sit well enough with R'en. /He/ didn't know /him/, but he can see the impact if he lacks feeling it. He looks down, at his boots, and shrugs his own shoulder. "All right enough." His eyes lift to watch her through the bit of hair. "You wanna hug?"
The question calls up another smile, this one curling one corner of Roa's mouth higher than the other. "Guess I might, at that," the weyrwoman admits as her head ducks down. "I don't know that you can reach all the way around me these days, though."
"But I think you know I'm gonna try anyway." After ducking his head to try to catch her eye, give her the little smile he has for her, R'en takes a couple of shuffling steps to her and reaches both arms carefully. Clearly he's making a show of trying to get them around her, tilting his head up and poking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth. Finally he has both long limbs 'round and, grunting, heaves a sigh. He's opted for a side-hug, see, which really doesn't turn out to be all that awkward.
For his 'attempts' at reaching, R'en gets an amused snicker, and for his hug, he gets slender arms wrapping around him in return. The weyrwoman heaves a small sigh, eyes closing for a moment. "Came to check up on me?" she asks with another soft chuckle. "Supposed to my job, I think, considering."
"Mm," is his agreement, his chin atop her head. After she makes her comment he's silent for a handful of seconds. Then, "Considerin' you sent my sister t'the one place in the world I'd wanna keep her away from?" It's soft and gentle, no trace of anger or suspicion, and he doesn't move to ruin the hug.
Her breath stops, is held, is exhaled slowly after a beat. "No. I meant considering you're a weyrling and I'm meant to, you know, be advisory to weyrlings. How'd you find out where she went?" Roa doesn't pull away, but there is a slow stiffening of her muscles.
Above her, R'en looks straight ahead, emotionless. He answers. "You just told me." Or, really, confirmed it for him. Which is /almost/ the same. He doesn't pull away either. Maybe it's the closeness, he's hoping it'll make this okay. "Didn't tell me sooner. Wanted t'wait 'til she got hurt'r killed? Usually how it goes around here."
"Didn't tell you because she asked me not to and because I didn't want you upset when there was no need. She's fine. She's fine. Waiting, but fine." Roa worries her bottom lip, her own gaze settled on where her hand rests on R'en arm.
"Huh." It's more an exhalation of a breath, a movement in his stomach that might nudge at her a bit. "Woulda told me before." But before what? He doesn't elaborate. "Who'd she ask?" Yes, he knows his sister.
"And what'll you do, now that you know?" is Roa's quiet question. "Both of us." Who she asked.
"Both o'you." It's flat, emotionless. "She call for a meetin', or...?" What'll he do? R'en doesn't say. Maybe he didn't hear her, she's so small, see.
"We were looking for someone. She asked it to be her," Roa answers. And then, again, "What'll you do now?"
"What you expect me t'do. What you've always expected me t'do. Sit here'n let you lie t'me." There's a sigh, slow and careful not to disrupt her, and he adds, "He was in on this, then, I guess."
Her hands shift and then push so that the little weyrwoman can worm her way free of the hug she suddenly no longer wishes to be a part of. "You make it sound like I'm out to hurt you. Or that I find this fun. There was no 'in on'."
If she initiates it, he won't fight. R'en's arms fall away and now, useless, hang at his sides. "Can't say I think you're havin' fun. Wouldn't know it." Then, with a furrow between his eyebrows and a tense jaw, he says, low, "She's my /sister/, Roa. /My/ sister."
"Yes," Roa says with a sharp nod and her own arms coming up to cross tightly over her chest. She inches a step backwards. "And a greenrider of High Reaches and a grown woman who came to us and volunteered. Would you have wanted us to turn her away, purely on the basis of her blood relation to you?"
"I'd have /wanted/," and /that/ was sharp and sudden, but the next is soft, like he realized, "you t'/tell/ me." His arms don't cross. His hand moves, though, to his hair, to shove and pull harshly. "You used t'trust me."
"Do you think," Roa's chin comes up and her jaw clenches, “in the matter of sending people to Five Mines, you have any right at all to be self-righteous? -You- used to trust -me-. What happened to -that-?"
"Sendin' people t'Five Mines?" His eyebrows are up, one of those desperate grins on his face. "You won't let people send /letters/ there, you're sendin' people. For peace? The lot o'you are actin' like a good ten turns of exile's all they needed t'see the error o'their ways. Why're you lettin' 'em over here!" Then, "I trusted you 'til you became this. Now you're one o'them, willin' t'put people in danger t'serve your own purposes. What d'you want me t'do, Roa? How bad does it have t'get?"
"They're people, Jen, and they're here. If we're not flying fall over their heads, I'd like them to know it before thread's on top of them. What do you mean why're they here. They -came- here! I didn't....nobody planned this, and what, exactly are we supposed to do? Where can we send them? Nobody's ever had exiles return before." Arms still crossed tightly, Roa begins pacing again. "They're on Nabol land, so Nabol has first say. That means calling a Conclave. Now it's a Grand Conclave because they're bloody exiles on the mainland and everyone's going to have an opinion on what's to be done next. And in the meantime, whatever they're up to, at least if they're flying fall they've got less time to be up to anything. Willing to put people in danger to serve my purposes? What purposes? Diplomacy? What do you -want- us to do? Kill them? Send them away for another ten turns until they decide to come back again? Chase them off into another Weyr's territory?"
It takes a long moment for R'en to talk after that. It isn't because he's stunned into silence by her speech. In a tired voice he says, "They've got dragons over there, Roa, don't act like we're their only hope." And then, both hands flopped to his sides again, he continues. "And don't act like the world's new'n naive. They never returned before, but we surely do know what they're capable of. Before they were exiles they were instigators, weren't they." He can only watch her pace for so long; he drops his eyes to the floor. "Why're they waitin'? Over there?"
"I don't know!" Roa snaps. "How in the world would I know?! We -sent- somebody to tell them we weren't flying fall and to maybe get a bit of information while they were at it. They have dragons. One wing, half of which are newly-graduated weyrlings. They can hold Five Mines, but I'll be surprised if they can do it without--" Her nostrils flare, eyes widening as her spine shoves straight. "I know what they were," she informs the bronzerider, soft and intent. "I know very well what they were. Don't have to remind me."
For all of that he only has, "What's my sister waitin' for over there? How long 'til she can come home?" Again, he's emotionless, very much not looking at her and standing very still.
"Odern won't see her to accept her message. She can come home any bloody time she wishes, but she's decided to dig in her heels and wait for an audience. So we wait on His Lordship's inclination." One cannot say Roa's words lack bitterness.
"A month?" Now, suddenly, he's looking at her. "Been a month, ain't it?" With narrowed eyes, R'en watches. "How long d'you think their peace'll hold?"
"Yes. Four sevens." Roa takes a few more steps backwards to sink down onto the couch. "That mostly depends on what everybody's after."
"Mostly depends? So you don't know." R'en's planted his hands on his hips but they slide down again, defeated. "If I'd asked t'go, if Sehkrath weren't a part o'the equation, you wouldn't've let me."
"Probably not," Roa agrees with a weak shrug. "And you would have gone anyhow."
"But you let her go. What's that say about me?" Whether or not he would have gone isn't an issue he cares to discuss. Because yeah, he would have.
"I suppose it says your sister argues better." The smile the weyrwoman offers is just a feeble attempt. This is what a smile should look like. "If you had asked to go, it would have been personal and it would have been for keeps. She went as a representative of High Reaches with every intent of keeping herself safe and coming back home." There is a small stress on that final word.
Yes. That is what a smile should look like. R'en seems to have forgotten how to make one of his own. "Keeps?" Out of all of that, /that/ is the one word that seems to have caught his attention.
Roa adds nothing more to the conversation than a single arched brow. A wordless dare that he deny it.
If daring is what she's looking for. "You mean like I woulda stayed? Or they woulda kept me?" It's suddenly very important.
"Yes," Roa gives a single, small nod to further underline her word.
In another situation, he would grin at her for that. Right now, he just looks exasperated. "Pick one," he grits out.
"You would have stayed. To save us or trip them up or...I don't know. Something. Something that ruins your life in the expectation that that'll somehow fix all of ours, never mind that we don't want anything fixed in such a manner." Roa crosses her ankles and dips her chin down to stare at them, frowning when she realizes that she can't. Hi, bump.
"Sittin' around'n waitin' is much better in comparison." Pause. Hi, bump. "I've never wanted t'die." That's cheery. "But at least I've come t'terms with the fact that someday it's gonna happen. And I'd rather it happen for a good reason."
"And I'd rather you didn't pack up and head off away from all your friends and family at the first sign of trouble, all the while saying it's the right thing to do," Roa counters. "We're not sitting around and waiting. We can't do anything alone. They're Pern's exiles. Pern, all together, gets to decide what happens next."
"All the friends who keep things from me so I don't do anything crazy? You're sayin' I can't do what I do t'keep you'n the rest o'the people I care about safe, but you're sittin' there tellin' me you can? Not only you can, but you did." 'All together' makes him snort and look away, but only for a second. "All o'Pern's richest, you mean. How many cotholders're on that Grand Conclave o'yours? Farmers'n kitchenhands. How many o'them're gonna be puttin' their hand in t'decide if they wanna let those people stay here're not?"
"You know, for someone who claims not to like the Instigators much, you sure talk a whole lot like them." Roa shoves up from the couch again with a faint grunt and pacing resumes. "Don't start acting all high and mighty. Don't you dare say I did anything you haven't done yourself."
"Never claimed I didn't think theirs was a good idea. Just that it got outta hand. And history repeats itself more'n I'd like. I also fail t'see how I'm bein' at all high'n mighty." He's watching her pace again. "You're the one keepin' information from me 'cause you think you know what's best. But nobody can know that, Roa. Not even you. And every time in the future you do what you did's only gonna make things worse."
"Keep that in mind for the future then," Roa notes, arms crossing again. Oh, for the days she could sit down and curl up into a little ball. "So now you know this information that you didn't before, what'll change?"
Oh, for the days he could do something. What'll change? He doesn't need much time to think on it. Just, "Us." And, it seems, that's enough. R'en can't look at her anymore, can't stand there, so he turns away and walks slow so his obvious running away isn't so obvious.
His word causes a visible flinch and Roa bites her bottom lip again, frowning as the bronzerider turns away. The teeth against her lip press down harder until he's slipped out out the weyr. Her hand lifts so knuckles can dash across her eyes as she sniffs sharply and swallows once, twice. The weyrwoman stares off into the distance for a beat, not really looking at anything in particular. Then she nods again, sniffs again, and moves back to her desk to read over the half-finished letter that still has to be written.