Banter
Location: Living Cavern
Time: Late morning on Day 4, Month 2, Turn 2
Players: K'sar, Yevide, Kianda, Roa
Scene: Yevide and Roa take the next step in their relationship and speak in couched euphamisms in the presence of others.
Living Cavern
Large enough to hold the majority of the Weyr's human population, this cavern can become loud enough to deafen thanks to the acoustics caused by its size. The ceiling is so far overhead that it's cast into shadow, a darkness that is broken only by the spark and glitter of a lucky beam of light striking the minerals found in the rock walls. Below, most of the floor is covered with an assortment of long tables and benches. There are some smaller tables, surrounded by chairs, but privacy appears to be a rare thing in this bustling cavern. Large hearths line the west wall, with fires burning day and night to warm the food and drink that keep the Weyr's inhabitants fueled. The serving tables are near the hearth, opposite the dais that holds the single table reserved for the Weyr leadership and honored guests.
"Ashwin was the true hero, Yevide. He's the one that carried Roa to safety and all. I just managed to distract the culprit by catching a shelf with my body." K'sar sounds a bit wry there, then nods to Kianda. "I'll have the marks to you later today."
"Come now, K'sar!" Yevide imbues her alto with a teasing reproof, blue eyes gleaming with delight as she brings a finger up to wag it at the bronzerider, as one might at a naughty child. "He diminishes himself," she informs Kianda, leaning forward, conspiriatorial. "His own body, between danger and the weyrwoman." Both brows go up for a moment there, eyes laughing now. "Just imagine that." She sits with diverse company; bronzerider and seamstress, amidst the morning crowd.
Kianda's eyebrows lift, and she takes a quick sip of her klah. "That works," she murmurs with a nod to K'sar. Grinning at Yevide's description of the event, she gestures encouragingly. "Oh, please continue, ma'am. Sounds like a most interesting tale."
A faint flush touches tanned skin and K'sar shakes his head. "I'm still a little stiff in the cold, but otherwise, I'm cleared for duty. If you will excuse me, ladies?" and he rises from his seat, gathering his plate and mug.
"There ought to be a ballad about it, properly," Yevide informs Kianda, lips curving further as K'sar is favoured with a smile. "And now, the properly modest hero absents himself, that others might sing his glory in his absence." Amusement reigns, one finger coming up to curl a blue-black curl about itself.
My my my, speak of the (Pernese equivalent, which there really isn't of the) devil and he shall appear. Or, in this case, she. Bag slung over her shoulder and in search of some food, Roa appears in the living cavern after an early morning class, and there is something new about her profile. Or, rather, old but restored. No more crutches. No more splint. The girl walks slowly but completely on her own and over towards the small group of holder, weyrwoman and bronzerider. Overhearing the last of the comments she says, with a faint smile, "There's still no better gossip flying about? It's been over a month."
Kianda grins in utter delight. "Sheeeeells. Look at him blush," she marvels. "/Good/ work, ma'am." A glance over her shoulder, and another nod is offered toward the latest arrival. "Hello there!"
"I know." K'sar replies, grinning at Roa. He sets his dishes in a basket for such and leans over to kiss her cheek. "Hello, Sprite. Nice to see you not limping." He, of course is still limping a little. "I've got to head out on a patrol soon. Good day."
"Watch," Yevide tells Kianda with a laugh, "and learn. Not a skill to be underestimated. I think we'll call it healthy colour, no?" She breaks off to turn her head, and here is Roa; the Telgari is treated to the warmest smile yet, Yevide's finger unwinding from her curl so that her hand can rise in a languid wave of greeting. "Roa, look at you! Roa," and she speaks now to Kianda in an aside, "is the heroine of my tale. Look well. Will you sit, Roa? I have tea coming."
"Good morning, Yevide. And hello, uhm, ma'am," she offers to Kianda having no better address than that. To K'sar she says with a smile, "You're looking leaps better than you were. Have a good day, K'sar." And then, oh, well, back to Yevide and the offered seat. "I'd love to," she says with a smile returned. "Only I think I'll fetch a bit of food first. And I wouldn't listen to Yevide too closely," she says again to Kianda. "The weyrwoman is prone to telling tales as she'd *like* them to have happened rather than how they truly were."
K'sar makes his slow way out of the caverns - well, fast for him of late, but still a slight hitch in his step.
Kianda spreads her hands with a grin. "Consider me your willing pupil, ma'am." Wiggling her fingers at K'sar in farewell, she turns to look over Roa, curious, then remembers to offer for both women, "Oh! I'm Kianda. Kia. Oh, there's nothing wrong with a little poetic license in embellishment, eh? It makes it easier to keep listeners, um, listening."
Yevide also raises a languid hand in farewell to K'sar - despite the pleasure with which he was greeted, his absence apparently banishes him from consideration. "In Igen, we tell stories as they are meant to be told," she laughs, wagging that finger at Roa, now. "We make the most of them, and we set our details like priceless stones, playing up their beauty by displaying them to their best."
"And what of those who would present their colored glass as rubies?" the Telgari counters with a smirk. She sets her bag down on a chair, claiming it, and then moves off to grab a plate and pile it with fruit before returning and actually sitting down with a faint sigh. She has circles under her eyes, but Roa's smile is easy and cordial. "Forgive me for my ill manners, Kianda. Well met. I am Roa, from Telgar."
"To those who can't tell the difference between colored glass and rubies, glass is just as pretty and just as enjoyable," Kia considers thoughtfully. "Not that I'd mind having the real thing, but you get what you can pay for." There's a middle ground between the goldriders' opinions, if she can just find it! She leaves off the search to offer Roa a pleasant smile. "Well met, I'm sure, ma'am."
Yevide holds her reply in reserve until Roa returns, turning her finger-wagging into a signal for the girl who has emerged from the kitchens; by the time the Telgari is making herself comfortable, Yevide is regarding a steaming teapot with unmasked satisfaction. "Another cup, please," the girl is instructed - to make the same offer to Kianda does not seem to occur. "And I - did K'sar say? - am Yevide. Of course, Roa and I are not of Igen or Telgar just now. We are from High Reaches for a little time, are we not, Roa?"
Roa lifts a fork and pokes through her selection of fruit, spearing a helpless berry and lifting it to her lips as the other women chat. "Some more than others," she says blithely to Yevide's comment about being from Reaches. After the berry is chewed and swallowed she adds, in Kianda's direction. "The weather is quite a shock, you see. I think, in the winters, many are thinking much more of their homes than of the chill around them."
Kianda grins into her klah. "Oh yes. He definitely identified you, ma'am." Setting the cup aside, she reaches to pull her sewing toward herself, shaking out the cloth. She opens her mouth to continue, then she laughs. "That just occurred to me. The weather factor, that is. But I'm from Nabol, so I'm used to it. It's a /little/ colder here, but not by much. Weyr's more comfortable though."
"Some," Yevide agrees with a laugh, "more than others." She leans forward, lifting the lid on her teapot to inspect the brew inside. A nod confirms readiness, and she begins to pour slowly, lifting blue eyes to her companions. "The cold is nothing short of a revelation. Whoever imagined so much snow?" The teapot is set down, and her fingers curl around her cup slowly, lashes lowering for a moment as steam is inhaled. "Roa makes a dashing heroine, don't you think? I think I should cast her in my story, if I could."
As the kitchen girl returns with a second mug and sets it down, Roa nudges it slightly towards Kianda's seat. "We seem to be one short," she muses and rising up again, fetches herself a teacup from the serving area and settles down again. "Nabol?" she asks Kianda, brows lifting. That *has* been a bit of a hot topic as of late. "Well, welcome to the Reaches, then. I hope you find your stay educational." And then, with a glance over towards Yevide and spearing a square of melon, "If you could," she laughs. "And therein lies the quandry, doesn't it. I am hesitant to accept such roles without first perusing a script."
Kianda holds up a vest-shaped piece of thin cream-colored cloth, checking over its lines, then lays it in her lap to begin hemming it. "Oh, snow is one of the best parts of the weather. Sledding and snowball fights and snow sculptures, not always in the best of taste," she notes in bemusement. Looking up toward Roa again, she grins. "Very dashing. Are you talking about the shelf in K'sar's chest story or another?" An eyebrow is lifted at the offered cup, and she leans over to sniff its identity out. "Oh, it's already been quite educational. Any more education and I'll die of embarrassment." Catching Roa's reaction to the mention of Nabol, she gives the woman a curious look. "What?"
A small reaction from Yevide, as Roa rises to fetch another cup; the Igenite lofts one brow, smile turning private for a moment. No comment. Rather, she simply leans forward to push the teapot across the table with one finger, before subsiding into her chair, legs stretched out before her, cup hugged to her chest. A slow sip, and she rolls it around in her mouth before she rejoins the conversation. "I say Roa lacks a sense of adventure, Kianda. What do you say? One cannot have a script, before launching into a story. That much we know, in Igen, where everything comes by word of mouth. Stories travel the desert with our caravans, spreading out in waves of whispers, carried unexpected places. One must simply trust one's story to that network, and hope it comes to rest in just the right place. Or," and now she cocks her glance at Roa, all mischief for a moment, "one must reach out to nudge it into line, now and again."
Melon is eaten and tea is poured, the Telgari gathering her own mug close. "An easy lecture to make," she responds to Yevide, "when you're one of the storytellers." Then, to Kianda, "Oh, it was nothing, Kianda. Only impertinent thoughts. You have heard, I suppose, that this weyr and your hold are more closely affiliated than previously thought?" And then, back to Yevide, "It does seem," and for a moment her eyes move, not towards Kianda or Yevide, but towards the doorway that leads out into the bowl, "such nudging can set new and unexpected tales into motion."
"Sometimes one needs to make a leap on faith," Kia agrees with Yevide with a chuckle. "Or be pushed off the cliff." Roa gets a startled look. "More closely affiliated? How so?" The girl shakes her head, disgusted. "Nobody tells girls nothin' in Nabol, and I've only been here a few days."
Yevide's gaze swivels around to follow Roa's towards the door; note how her lips curve once more to that smile, positively illuminating her face. There's pleasure there that extends beyond the reach of the tea. "New tales need not be unexpected," she counters, sipping slowly from her tea. "We might weave them ourselves, and know just what they will say. We can pick and choose the stones, or the coloured glass, and have them put in settings we like." A stretch, and she leans forward to set down her teacup, once again dropping to the confidential murmur Kianda was treated to earlier. "I prefer to leap and spread my wings, then to push. A dragonrider's choice, always."
"A dragonrider's choice indeed," Roa murmurs blithely, "and one dependant on having a dragon." Sip of tea as she explains to Kianda, "It's been recently discovered that the retired weyrwoman's son was, in fact, also the son of the Lord of Nabol's cousin. The gossip of course being that it's the reason why Lexine stepped down at all and the weyr is currently in this state of," a small glance towards Yevide, "flux."
Kianda looks back and forth between the woman, shifting slightly after a brief glance toward the doorway that seems to be attracting so much attention. "Um. Granted that that family tree's sort of... odd, why would that make her step down?"
A small glance back at Roa. Subtext, each word rich in meaning. "An interesting question, Kianda. I will leave it to Roa to teach you. I must stir myself. I have stories to tell today, and some of them will not wait." She rises, smoothing down her tunic slowly, the movement tracing the curve of her hips. "Enjoy your tea." And with these words, she takes her leave.
Roa tips her head in a nod to the departing Yevide. "A good day to you, weyrwoman," she says with another of those little smiles. And then, she turns back to Kianda. "To be entirely honest, I'm not certain of the exact specifics. It has something to do with the fact that the Lord of Nabol is known for wishing to keep his Blood close and the indignity of learning that one of his kin was not only dragonriding stock but already impressed. When Nabol started making a fuss about tithing soon after, well, it seemed a way to calm everything down and Lexine and her queen were, as I understand it, fairly close to stepping down anyhow."
Kianda inclines her head. "It was nice meeting you..." She trails off as Yevide moves away, and turns her curious gaze on Roa. "Oh yes," she says dryly. "What a horrible skeleton to have in the family closet." She pauses abruptly, biting her upper lip. "/My/ Hold didn't want to tithe?" Her face flushes in shame, and she mutters, "Don't think I'll be telling anybody else where I came from."
"I don't think it's that Nabol didn't want to tithe. Only that Nabol didn't want to tithe to Reaches. But, I wouldn't worry about it overmuch. That happened months ago, and there's been plenty to fret about since." Another small smile and then more munching of fruit.
Kianda's brow furrows a little; she's distracted enough to reach for the pot to fill her empty cup. "You said the Weyr's still in flux? What's happened to cause that since Lexine stepped down? And what /did/ happen last month to make you and K'sar heroic?"
Roa leans back, laughing softly. "All good questions. Let me ask you first, how much do you understand about weyr leadership? Who runs what and how they attain the position? As for the other...well, I'm sure Yevide would embellish it to sparkling proportions but the simple version is that on Turn's End I wandered where I shouldn't and a number of guards and K'sar had to rush to my rescue in a room that had been jerry-rigged for just such an occurance."
Kianda grimaces a bit. "Basically what the Teaching Ballads say. I mean, I know the Weyrleader is the rider whose dragon catches the senior queen, and he's in charge of fighting Thread whereas she seems to be in charge of the more," she waves a hand to indicate the caverns, "Domestic matters." The young woman's eyes widen a little at the tale, and she offers a little grin. "That had to be embarrassing."
Roa peers down at the table, her cheeks reddening slightly. "Rather horribly, yes," is murmured. "Well," she looks up again, clearing her throat, "You have it about right. Since Lexine stepped down, there's been no traditionally established leadership, though Weyrwoman Diya is serving the Weyrwoman’s duties in her stead. So, until a High Reaches gold rises to claim seniorship the weyr is left with an interim weyrwoman and a dragonless weyrleader."
Kianda drums her fingers on the tabletop, absorbing that information and dissecting it. "I can see how that would make things uncertain and people uneasy, yes. Who's leading against Thread in the meantime?"
"Ch'dais has been leading the wings in G'thon's stead since his Hirth passed," is Roa's soft reply. The rest of the tea is quietly nursed.
Kianda nods slightly, then gives her companion a slight smile. "I appreciate the information. Certainly nobody else's thought fit to mention it. It should be very interesting indeed to see what, if anything, changes once that flight occurs."
Roa laughs softly and shakes her head. "That, I believe, shall be an understatement." But instead of saying more, she scoops up her bag and slides her seat back. "I'm afraid I'm due in another class, but it was a pleasure meeting you Kianda of Nabol. I'm sure we'll see each other again."
Kianda inclines her head. "I look forward to it, ma'am. Clear skies," she smiles.
"Thank you." And with another tip of her head, the Telgari is heading back out the way she came.
Time: Late morning on Day 4, Month 2, Turn 2
Players: K'sar, Yevide, Kianda, Roa
Scene: Yevide and Roa take the next step in their relationship and speak in couched euphamisms in the presence of others.
Living Cavern
Large enough to hold the majority of the Weyr's human population, this cavern can become loud enough to deafen thanks to the acoustics caused by its size. The ceiling is so far overhead that it's cast into shadow, a darkness that is broken only by the spark and glitter of a lucky beam of light striking the minerals found in the rock walls. Below, most of the floor is covered with an assortment of long tables and benches. There are some smaller tables, surrounded by chairs, but privacy appears to be a rare thing in this bustling cavern. Large hearths line the west wall, with fires burning day and night to warm the food and drink that keep the Weyr's inhabitants fueled. The serving tables are near the hearth, opposite the dais that holds the single table reserved for the Weyr leadership and honored guests.
"Ashwin was the true hero, Yevide. He's the one that carried Roa to safety and all. I just managed to distract the culprit by catching a shelf with my body." K'sar sounds a bit wry there, then nods to Kianda. "I'll have the marks to you later today."
"Come now, K'sar!" Yevide imbues her alto with a teasing reproof, blue eyes gleaming with delight as she brings a finger up to wag it at the bronzerider, as one might at a naughty child. "He diminishes himself," she informs Kianda, leaning forward, conspiriatorial. "His own body, between danger and the weyrwoman." Both brows go up for a moment there, eyes laughing now. "Just imagine that." She sits with diverse company; bronzerider and seamstress, amidst the morning crowd.
Kianda's eyebrows lift, and she takes a quick sip of her klah. "That works," she murmurs with a nod to K'sar. Grinning at Yevide's description of the event, she gestures encouragingly. "Oh, please continue, ma'am. Sounds like a most interesting tale."
A faint flush touches tanned skin and K'sar shakes his head. "I'm still a little stiff in the cold, but otherwise, I'm cleared for duty. If you will excuse me, ladies?" and he rises from his seat, gathering his plate and mug.
"There ought to be a ballad about it, properly," Yevide informs Kianda, lips curving further as K'sar is favoured with a smile. "And now, the properly modest hero absents himself, that others might sing his glory in his absence." Amusement reigns, one finger coming up to curl a blue-black curl about itself.
My my my, speak of the (Pernese equivalent, which there really isn't of the) devil and he shall appear. Or, in this case, she. Bag slung over her shoulder and in search of some food, Roa appears in the living cavern after an early morning class, and there is something new about her profile. Or, rather, old but restored. No more crutches. No more splint. The girl walks slowly but completely on her own and over towards the small group of holder, weyrwoman and bronzerider. Overhearing the last of the comments she says, with a faint smile, "There's still no better gossip flying about? It's been over a month."
Kianda grins in utter delight. "Sheeeeells. Look at him blush," she marvels. "/Good/ work, ma'am." A glance over her shoulder, and another nod is offered toward the latest arrival. "Hello there!"
"I know." K'sar replies, grinning at Roa. He sets his dishes in a basket for such and leans over to kiss her cheek. "Hello, Sprite. Nice to see you not limping." He, of course is still limping a little. "I've got to head out on a patrol soon. Good day."
"Watch," Yevide tells Kianda with a laugh, "and learn. Not a skill to be underestimated. I think we'll call it healthy colour, no?" She breaks off to turn her head, and here is Roa; the Telgari is treated to the warmest smile yet, Yevide's finger unwinding from her curl so that her hand can rise in a languid wave of greeting. "Roa, look at you! Roa," and she speaks now to Kianda in an aside, "is the heroine of my tale. Look well. Will you sit, Roa? I have tea coming."
"Good morning, Yevide. And hello, uhm, ma'am," she offers to Kianda having no better address than that. To K'sar she says with a smile, "You're looking leaps better than you were. Have a good day, K'sar." And then, oh, well, back to Yevide and the offered seat. "I'd love to," she says with a smile returned. "Only I think I'll fetch a bit of food first. And I wouldn't listen to Yevide too closely," she says again to Kianda. "The weyrwoman is prone to telling tales as she'd *like* them to have happened rather than how they truly were."
K'sar makes his slow way out of the caverns - well, fast for him of late, but still a slight hitch in his step.
Kianda spreads her hands with a grin. "Consider me your willing pupil, ma'am." Wiggling her fingers at K'sar in farewell, she turns to look over Roa, curious, then remembers to offer for both women, "Oh! I'm Kianda. Kia. Oh, there's nothing wrong with a little poetic license in embellishment, eh? It makes it easier to keep listeners, um, listening."
Yevide also raises a languid hand in farewell to K'sar - despite the pleasure with which he was greeted, his absence apparently banishes him from consideration. "In Igen, we tell stories as they are meant to be told," she laughs, wagging that finger at Roa, now. "We make the most of them, and we set our details like priceless stones, playing up their beauty by displaying them to their best."
"And what of those who would present their colored glass as rubies?" the Telgari counters with a smirk. She sets her bag down on a chair, claiming it, and then moves off to grab a plate and pile it with fruit before returning and actually sitting down with a faint sigh. She has circles under her eyes, but Roa's smile is easy and cordial. "Forgive me for my ill manners, Kianda. Well met. I am Roa, from Telgar."
"To those who can't tell the difference between colored glass and rubies, glass is just as pretty and just as enjoyable," Kia considers thoughtfully. "Not that I'd mind having the real thing, but you get what you can pay for." There's a middle ground between the goldriders' opinions, if she can just find it! She leaves off the search to offer Roa a pleasant smile. "Well met, I'm sure, ma'am."
Yevide holds her reply in reserve until Roa returns, turning her finger-wagging into a signal for the girl who has emerged from the kitchens; by the time the Telgari is making herself comfortable, Yevide is regarding a steaming teapot with unmasked satisfaction. "Another cup, please," the girl is instructed - to make the same offer to Kianda does not seem to occur. "And I - did K'sar say? - am Yevide. Of course, Roa and I are not of Igen or Telgar just now. We are from High Reaches for a little time, are we not, Roa?"
Roa lifts a fork and pokes through her selection of fruit, spearing a helpless berry and lifting it to her lips as the other women chat. "Some more than others," she says blithely to Yevide's comment about being from Reaches. After the berry is chewed and swallowed she adds, in Kianda's direction. "The weather is quite a shock, you see. I think, in the winters, many are thinking much more of their homes than of the chill around them."
Kianda grins into her klah. "Oh yes. He definitely identified you, ma'am." Setting the cup aside, she reaches to pull her sewing toward herself, shaking out the cloth. She opens her mouth to continue, then she laughs. "That just occurred to me. The weather factor, that is. But I'm from Nabol, so I'm used to it. It's a /little/ colder here, but not by much. Weyr's more comfortable though."
"Some," Yevide agrees with a laugh, "more than others." She leans forward, lifting the lid on her teapot to inspect the brew inside. A nod confirms readiness, and she begins to pour slowly, lifting blue eyes to her companions. "The cold is nothing short of a revelation. Whoever imagined so much snow?" The teapot is set down, and her fingers curl around her cup slowly, lashes lowering for a moment as steam is inhaled. "Roa makes a dashing heroine, don't you think? I think I should cast her in my story, if I could."
As the kitchen girl returns with a second mug and sets it down, Roa nudges it slightly towards Kianda's seat. "We seem to be one short," she muses and rising up again, fetches herself a teacup from the serving area and settles down again. "Nabol?" she asks Kianda, brows lifting. That *has* been a bit of a hot topic as of late. "Well, welcome to the Reaches, then. I hope you find your stay educational." And then, with a glance over towards Yevide and spearing a square of melon, "If you could," she laughs. "And therein lies the quandry, doesn't it. I am hesitant to accept such roles without first perusing a script."
Kianda holds up a vest-shaped piece of thin cream-colored cloth, checking over its lines, then lays it in her lap to begin hemming it. "Oh, snow is one of the best parts of the weather. Sledding and snowball fights and snow sculptures, not always in the best of taste," she notes in bemusement. Looking up toward Roa again, she grins. "Very dashing. Are you talking about the shelf in K'sar's chest story or another?" An eyebrow is lifted at the offered cup, and she leans over to sniff its identity out. "Oh, it's already been quite educational. Any more education and I'll die of embarrassment." Catching Roa's reaction to the mention of Nabol, she gives the woman a curious look. "What?"
A small reaction from Yevide, as Roa rises to fetch another cup; the Igenite lofts one brow, smile turning private for a moment. No comment. Rather, she simply leans forward to push the teapot across the table with one finger, before subsiding into her chair, legs stretched out before her, cup hugged to her chest. A slow sip, and she rolls it around in her mouth before she rejoins the conversation. "I say Roa lacks a sense of adventure, Kianda. What do you say? One cannot have a script, before launching into a story. That much we know, in Igen, where everything comes by word of mouth. Stories travel the desert with our caravans, spreading out in waves of whispers, carried unexpected places. One must simply trust one's story to that network, and hope it comes to rest in just the right place. Or," and now she cocks her glance at Roa, all mischief for a moment, "one must reach out to nudge it into line, now and again."
Melon is eaten and tea is poured, the Telgari gathering her own mug close. "An easy lecture to make," she responds to Yevide, "when you're one of the storytellers." Then, to Kianda, "Oh, it was nothing, Kianda. Only impertinent thoughts. You have heard, I suppose, that this weyr and your hold are more closely affiliated than previously thought?" And then, back to Yevide, "It does seem," and for a moment her eyes move, not towards Kianda or Yevide, but towards the doorway that leads out into the bowl, "such nudging can set new and unexpected tales into motion."
"Sometimes one needs to make a leap on faith," Kia agrees with Yevide with a chuckle. "Or be pushed off the cliff." Roa gets a startled look. "More closely affiliated? How so?" The girl shakes her head, disgusted. "Nobody tells girls nothin' in Nabol, and I've only been here a few days."
Yevide's gaze swivels around to follow Roa's towards the door; note how her lips curve once more to that smile, positively illuminating her face. There's pleasure there that extends beyond the reach of the tea. "New tales need not be unexpected," she counters, sipping slowly from her tea. "We might weave them ourselves, and know just what they will say. We can pick and choose the stones, or the coloured glass, and have them put in settings we like." A stretch, and she leans forward to set down her teacup, once again dropping to the confidential murmur Kianda was treated to earlier. "I prefer to leap and spread my wings, then to push. A dragonrider's choice, always."
"A dragonrider's choice indeed," Roa murmurs blithely, "and one dependant on having a dragon." Sip of tea as she explains to Kianda, "It's been recently discovered that the retired weyrwoman's son was, in fact, also the son of the Lord of Nabol's cousin. The gossip of course being that it's the reason why Lexine stepped down at all and the weyr is currently in this state of," a small glance towards Yevide, "flux."
Kianda looks back and forth between the woman, shifting slightly after a brief glance toward the doorway that seems to be attracting so much attention. "Um. Granted that that family tree's sort of... odd, why would that make her step down?"
A small glance back at Roa. Subtext, each word rich in meaning. "An interesting question, Kianda. I will leave it to Roa to teach you. I must stir myself. I have stories to tell today, and some of them will not wait." She rises, smoothing down her tunic slowly, the movement tracing the curve of her hips. "Enjoy your tea." And with these words, she takes her leave.
Roa tips her head in a nod to the departing Yevide. "A good day to you, weyrwoman," she says with another of those little smiles. And then, she turns back to Kianda. "To be entirely honest, I'm not certain of the exact specifics. It has something to do with the fact that the Lord of Nabol is known for wishing to keep his Blood close and the indignity of learning that one of his kin was not only dragonriding stock but already impressed. When Nabol started making a fuss about tithing soon after, well, it seemed a way to calm everything down and Lexine and her queen were, as I understand it, fairly close to stepping down anyhow."
Kianda inclines her head. "It was nice meeting you..." She trails off as Yevide moves away, and turns her curious gaze on Roa. "Oh yes," she says dryly. "What a horrible skeleton to have in the family closet." She pauses abruptly, biting her upper lip. "/My/ Hold didn't want to tithe?" Her face flushes in shame, and she mutters, "Don't think I'll be telling anybody else where I came from."
"I don't think it's that Nabol didn't want to tithe. Only that Nabol didn't want to tithe to Reaches. But, I wouldn't worry about it overmuch. That happened months ago, and there's been plenty to fret about since." Another small smile and then more munching of fruit.
Kianda's brow furrows a little; she's distracted enough to reach for the pot to fill her empty cup. "You said the Weyr's still in flux? What's happened to cause that since Lexine stepped down? And what /did/ happen last month to make you and K'sar heroic?"
Roa leans back, laughing softly. "All good questions. Let me ask you first, how much do you understand about weyr leadership? Who runs what and how they attain the position? As for the other...well, I'm sure Yevide would embellish it to sparkling proportions but the simple version is that on Turn's End I wandered where I shouldn't and a number of guards and K'sar had to rush to my rescue in a room that had been jerry-rigged for just such an occurance."
Kianda grimaces a bit. "Basically what the Teaching Ballads say. I mean, I know the Weyrleader is the rider whose dragon catches the senior queen, and he's in charge of fighting Thread whereas she seems to be in charge of the more," she waves a hand to indicate the caverns, "Domestic matters." The young woman's eyes widen a little at the tale, and she offers a little grin. "That had to be embarrassing."
Roa peers down at the table, her cheeks reddening slightly. "Rather horribly, yes," is murmured. "Well," she looks up again, clearing her throat, "You have it about right. Since Lexine stepped down, there's been no traditionally established leadership, though Weyrwoman Diya is serving the Weyrwoman’s duties in her stead. So, until a High Reaches gold rises to claim seniorship the weyr is left with an interim weyrwoman and a dragonless weyrleader."
Kianda drums her fingers on the tabletop, absorbing that information and dissecting it. "I can see how that would make things uncertain and people uneasy, yes. Who's leading against Thread in the meantime?"
"Ch'dais has been leading the wings in G'thon's stead since his Hirth passed," is Roa's soft reply. The rest of the tea is quietly nursed.
Kianda nods slightly, then gives her companion a slight smile. "I appreciate the information. Certainly nobody else's thought fit to mention it. It should be very interesting indeed to see what, if anything, changes once that flight occurs."
Roa laughs softly and shakes her head. "That, I believe, shall be an understatement." But instead of saying more, she scoops up her bag and slides her seat back. "I'm afraid I'm due in another class, but it was a pleasure meeting you Kianda of Nabol. I'm sure we'll see each other again."
Kianda inclines her head. "I look forward to it, ma'am. Clear skies," she smiles.
"Thank you." And with another tip of her head, the Telgari is heading back out the way she came.