Maps and Letters
Location: Issa's Weyr
Time: Evening on Day 28, Month 6, Turn 2
Players: Issa and Roa
Scene: Issa knows a secret that Roa doesn't know Issa knows.
Issa's Weyr
Sumptuous warmth counters the bitter cold of a High Reaches winter, delicious browns and flushed bronzes cloaking the drab stone of the walls. Rich russet curtains cover the arched entrance from the ledge, either hanging heavily to keep out the cold or pulled back with a strong rope. Immediately to the right from the ledge, is a hearth, surrounded by a small sitting area. As for seating, there's two choices: a long couch, worn to a faded rust color, placed at an angle with the hearth, and a chair, high-backed and upholstered in smooth copper. The rug beneath them is an intricate weaving of sand and sage, forming a tangle of vines that culminate in the center, where a large wooden chest conceals the most convoluted loops.
The hearth itself is a meager one, tiny in the large stone wall, dominated by the tall tapestry that hangs above it. On the tapestry, a light green, rather disproportion shape that resembles a dragon sinuously flames at nothing in particular, locked in by a scrolling knot pattern around the edges.
The entirety of the wall opposite the hearth is taken up by the dragon couch, with flattened furs and riding straps strewn across it, infringing on the center space of the already cramped and cozy weyr.
The last splash of color comes from a curtain concealing the deeper alcove, mirroring the larger curtains across the entrance in color and position. Through it, a glimpse of a tall bed can be seen, covered in a pile of disheveled furs and pillows dyed to a deep mahogany.
The sound of wingbeats, as always, comes first. And then the light and careful perch of a dragon too large for a ledge and the scrambling of the tiny Telgari hopping down and off. Tialith wings away and Roa moves towards the inner weyr with a courteous nod to Oshisyth. The girl looks worn flat. Tired. Pale. Shadows under her eyes. "Issa?" she calls in the doorway. "I've come, Tialith said you wanted to see me?"
"I did," Issa calls back from the hearth, where she stands frowning over a kettle of water that stubbornly refuses to boil. "Come in, come in." And she raises her face to her visitor, forcing a smile to surface on her lips though the result is decidedly strained. "Sit," she offers succinctly, waving her casted hand haphazardly toward the couch. "Do you want some tea? They tell me it's supposed to be soothing." With her left, she lifts a tiny pouch of herbs, dangling it midair for Roa to see though her face clearly throws into doubt whether she trusts it or not.
In she steps at the invitation, the curtain left to fall behind her. Roa makes her way over to the couch and sinks down with a soft sigh. "Don't watch it," she advises. "It always takes longer when you watch it. Or, it feels that way." She leans back, eyes drifting shut for a moment. "How are you holding up? I can't believe...I can't believe it."
"I know," Issa comments vacantly. But still, her eyes fall back to the kettle, threatening it with her silent, narrowed gaze. Dazed, stunned by the raw, simple appeal of anticipation, she pulls her arms around her, as she speaks. "I'm holding up," she says, the corners of her lips curling, if only slightly. Then, quieter, "I have to." A slow sigh separates her gaze and she tears herself from the hearth, stepping toward the goldrider. "I heard the Caucus has been shaken, as well." There's a sense that she's steeling herself for something with these little tidbits, soaking them in, bracing for something stronger.
"There's been a large number of meetings and the rumors that it might not stay at The Reaches much longer. A few think it could be disband completely. I don't know. For the time being, I think I'll leave Caucus troubles to Sefton to sort out. I've my hands full without yet one more thing to worry about." Said hands move, lifting to rub at her face before falling into her lap. Eyes open slowly again and Roa quiets. Waiting.
Issa absorbs the information about the Caucus with nothing more than a single slow nod, eyes wandering to Oshisyth, who quietly preens, perched on her couch. Smile stretches across her lips, however, at Roa's mention of her worries, an easier smile than before. "Nabol?" she questions, coolly studying Roa's face to the reaction to that single word. But the kettle turns out to not only be stubborn but inconvenient, for it chooses then to spout a shrill whistle that commands Issa's attention. The greenrider turns, slipping a small towel over her left hand before she pulls the kettle, on its metal arm, out from the fire. When that's completed, she casually notes over her shoulder, "Nabol has coverage, whether it wants it or not."
The Telgari sits up a bit straighter at the mention of Nabol, exhaustion snapping into sudden interest. She waits out the kettle's tantrum with a barely-restrained stillness and then, when Issa shares news of coverage, Roa's eyes widen. "I...you...made contact? Or, someone...they will? They are? Can you...can I know? How things are, there? Do you know?"
"So many questions, Roa," Issa replies quickly, forgoing any procedure and simply tossing the packet of herbs into the kettle whole before turning back with a quiet grin. "News is sparse, other than they've agreed to fly Thread. We have word from Diya and a bluerider there." Her gaze is riveted on the goldrider's features as she saunters over, leaving the tea to brew. She leans down to sit on the arm of the couch, leaning gently back onto the cushions, eyes closing briefly. When they open, they stare at the ceiling.
From a bluerider there. "Ah. Well. Good, that they'll fly." Roa's own eyes lower to examine her hands. "Nenuith is well, then. I'm glad to hear it. She must be close to clutching, now." Her eyes flick up and her shoulders roll. The scrutiny is unnerving. "Is there something else, Issa?" is the quiet question.
It's a long moment before Issa responds. "No. No, not really." Her gaze dances across the distant ceiling, slipping across the shadows there until she pulls it back to Roa, her head turning against the cushions so that she can more easily regard the goldrider. "It's unsettling, is all. Diya and Nenuith, being there. So far away." A brief pause follows, and Issa is motionless throughout. "Did you know any of the Instigators, Roa?" An innocent question, mildly curious at most.
"I suppose it would be," Roa murmurs, leaning back into the couch again. The question catches her off guard, though, and eyes that were lowering to her hands snap up to Issa's face. "I was only nine when everything was revealed," she murmurs. "I can't say as I'd remember if any of the people I knew were accused. So, I suppose it's possible..." shoulders lift and fall. Ho hum.
"Mmm," Issa muses idly. Ho hum, indeed. "I can't imagine how hard it would be. To see someone taken like that. Diya's only been there for a few months. And of her own choice." She no longer watches the small Telgari for reactions, and merely lets her eyes wander. A moment passes and, with a delicate groan of protest, she lifts herself again, stepping over to the cabinet to that side of the couch to retrieve a mug. After a few clinks, one surfaces, clutched tightly in her left hand. "You sure you don't want a cup?"
Hands, it seems, are quite the things to watch. The backs of them first, and then they're slowly turned over so palms can be examined. Roa's contribution to the musings of exile? "Mmm." She shakes her lowered head at the offer of tea. "I'm fine." And then after a moment, "Issa? Do you think it might be possible to send...things there? Small things? Letters and such?"
Issa gives a small shrug and tips closed the cabinet door, walking back to the hearth with her mug. The heat of the kettle is tested with a hesitant touch, the pads of the fingers on her right hand just brushing the surface before they're brought back quickly. Then, the mug is transplanted to that casted hand and gripped as well as is possible, the matter of pouring relegated to her left hand. "Letters? To Diya?" the greenrider inquires, though her attention still lies with pouring out the tea, the heavy kettle tilted gently, haltingly. "Well, we're sending maps, so I'm sure letters would be able to get through somehow." Oh, didn't she mention the maps? There's a splash of liquid that ends up outside the mug, but most of it lands where it's supposed to. The kettle is replaced and she lifts the mug to shamelessly lick the spilled drips from the outside of the cup.
"Maps?" Roa asks to her fingernails. She exhales slowly, squares hers shoulders and lifts her head. Hands settle quietly in her lap, curled around one another. "Of Nabol, do you mean? Will...do you think someone might notice that, after the fact?" A small pause to absorb the rest. "Letters to Diya," she confirms. "How and when should I get them to you?"
"Copies of maps," Issa corrects, and then, with a little shrug adds, "from as reliable a source as we could find, on short notice. It might be noticed, but it might not. We'll have to take that chance." She lifts her mug now for a proper sip, and when she lowers it, there's a small grimace for the taste. "I believe they," this insistence of some vague and mysterious they again, "will make contact again within a day or two. Whenever they can slip away unnoticed. Bring them to me as soon as you can, and I'll see that Diya's letters get into the right hands." With a deliberate step, she moves back to the couch, taking up a more traditional seat on the cushions next to Roa.
A tip of her head, canting it to the right. "And this source...does this source know what the maps are being copied for?" Her nose wrinkles sympathetically with Issa's. "Healer's tea?" she asks, "Are you allowed sweetener? I find drowning it with sweet does wonders for being able to drink it. I'll get the letters to you tomorrow or the day after."
"I've run out," Issa explains, sour amusement sinking into her voice and summoning up a little smile as she lifts the mug in a mock toast and tips out a large gulp. "This source," she says, mug lowering to her lap, cradled against the palm of her left hand, "knows only of its relation to Threadfall over the region. I think they assume that it will be another Reachian attempt. But no mention was made of you or the Instigators, don't worry." She makes as if to drink again, but the mug is stalled halfway, then slowly lowered again. Blue eyes find the goldrider's face and remain, studying what she finds there for the span of a deep sigh. "I'm sorry, Roa, for all this obscurity. If it were my own neck... But I feel the need to protect those involved."
Roa holds a hand up as if to forestall Issa's apology. "It's probably better this way. Especially with dragons involved." There is a tiny smile, pained, actually, that comes to the corner of her mouth. "Can thirty dragons keep a secret?" she murmurs, though almost more to herself than to the greenrider. And then she's looking down at her hands, blinking rapidly, clearing her throat. "Does this all feel surreal to you, too?" she asks after a brief moment of quiet.
Issa swings her feet up, the heels of her boots coming to rest on the trunk with a wooden thud. Her feet stay there, splayed recklessly for a moment before she applies some sort of order, crossing her legs at the ankle. "Yes," she answers quickly, staring down at her scuffed toes. She sips liberally from her mug, swiftly sucking down the bad-tasting liquid. "We're caught in Pern's worst nightmare. And we have to find our way out." Elbow now placed on the arm of the couch, she leans her temple against the fingers curled around the top of her cast, mulling silently. "Of course, the fact that I haven't slept much can't be helping," she offers with a ghost of a smile.
"Shells," Roa rolls her eyes and shakes her head slowly. "We are. I wonder if it's worse now than it was then. I can't...you can't sleep? Is it you or is it Oshisyth?" Roa looks over towards the green on her couch before adding, "It's been suggested to me that meditating when it rains helps. To focus on the sound of the water instead of anything else."
Issa lets out a short spurt of laughter, weak but amused. "No, it's me." Oshisyth separates herself from her grooming long enough to spare the pair of riders a quick, gleamingly green glance before worrying over a particularly troublesome talon. "Though she's due to rise again soon." Something clouds over her gaze as the greenrider watches her dragon, and it's a moment before she tears herself away from whatever ruminations captured her attention. "I'll have to try that," she then comments, offering Roa a small, grateful smile. "Faranth knows this stuff isn't helping." But all the same, she takes another sip.
"Faranth knows," Roa agrees with quiet amusement in her voice. "I don't suppose a green close to rising can help matters much." Her hands tap lightly in her lap. "I guess I'd better go, unless there was anything else? I'll get the letter to you and, ah, a small parcel. Do you think to could manage a parcel? Yea big?" Her hands for the shape of of something about the size of several large tubers.
Issa sizes up the hand gesture, then simply nods, ducking her head for another sip, draining the mug to almost empty. "And I'll tell them to get news from the island as well. For inquiring minds." And then the mug is swiftly drained of the rest of its contents, mouth working over the taste as she drops her feet from their propped position and leans forward to set the empty cup on top of the wooden chest.
"I, yes. I'd like that. I'll include some blank hides. I don't know what they'd have there." Roa pushes up, a smile touching er lips but briefly. "Thank you. For...I don't know. All of it, I suppose. The letters, especially, though."
"I'm sure Diya will be glad to hear from you," Issa responds lightly, as she sinks back into the couch cushions. "You'll forgive me if I don't walk you out?" the greenrider fairly begs, tilting her head back as she slips a smile onto her lips. "I find the very idea of hostess duties exhausting right now."
There's a tiny laugh and Roa only shakes her head. "Considering what all we've been discussing, seems a little funny that you'd fret over such a thing as walking me out. Good night, Issa. I hope you can get some rest." She pushes herself up into a stand and begins for the ledge.
"Sleep well." The farewell Issa calls over the couch back is only halfhearted, too tainted with an laughing scoff to be called truly sincere.
Time: Evening on Day 28, Month 6, Turn 2
Players: Issa and Roa
Scene: Issa knows a secret that Roa doesn't know Issa knows.
Issa's Weyr
Sumptuous warmth counters the bitter cold of a High Reaches winter, delicious browns and flushed bronzes cloaking the drab stone of the walls. Rich russet curtains cover the arched entrance from the ledge, either hanging heavily to keep out the cold or pulled back with a strong rope. Immediately to the right from the ledge, is a hearth, surrounded by a small sitting area. As for seating, there's two choices: a long couch, worn to a faded rust color, placed at an angle with the hearth, and a chair, high-backed and upholstered in smooth copper. The rug beneath them is an intricate weaving of sand and sage, forming a tangle of vines that culminate in the center, where a large wooden chest conceals the most convoluted loops.
The hearth itself is a meager one, tiny in the large stone wall, dominated by the tall tapestry that hangs above it. On the tapestry, a light green, rather disproportion shape that resembles a dragon sinuously flames at nothing in particular, locked in by a scrolling knot pattern around the edges.
The entirety of the wall opposite the hearth is taken up by the dragon couch, with flattened furs and riding straps strewn across it, infringing on the center space of the already cramped and cozy weyr.
The last splash of color comes from a curtain concealing the deeper alcove, mirroring the larger curtains across the entrance in color and position. Through it, a glimpse of a tall bed can be seen, covered in a pile of disheveled furs and pillows dyed to a deep mahogany.
The sound of wingbeats, as always, comes first. And then the light and careful perch of a dragon too large for a ledge and the scrambling of the tiny Telgari hopping down and off. Tialith wings away and Roa moves towards the inner weyr with a courteous nod to Oshisyth. The girl looks worn flat. Tired. Pale. Shadows under her eyes. "Issa?" she calls in the doorway. "I've come, Tialith said you wanted to see me?"
"I did," Issa calls back from the hearth, where she stands frowning over a kettle of water that stubbornly refuses to boil. "Come in, come in." And she raises her face to her visitor, forcing a smile to surface on her lips though the result is decidedly strained. "Sit," she offers succinctly, waving her casted hand haphazardly toward the couch. "Do you want some tea? They tell me it's supposed to be soothing." With her left, she lifts a tiny pouch of herbs, dangling it midair for Roa to see though her face clearly throws into doubt whether she trusts it or not.
In she steps at the invitation, the curtain left to fall behind her. Roa makes her way over to the couch and sinks down with a soft sigh. "Don't watch it," she advises. "It always takes longer when you watch it. Or, it feels that way." She leans back, eyes drifting shut for a moment. "How are you holding up? I can't believe...I can't believe it."
"I know," Issa comments vacantly. But still, her eyes fall back to the kettle, threatening it with her silent, narrowed gaze. Dazed, stunned by the raw, simple appeal of anticipation, she pulls her arms around her, as she speaks. "I'm holding up," she says, the corners of her lips curling, if only slightly. Then, quieter, "I have to." A slow sigh separates her gaze and she tears herself from the hearth, stepping toward the goldrider. "I heard the Caucus has been shaken, as well." There's a sense that she's steeling herself for something with these little tidbits, soaking them in, bracing for something stronger.
"There's been a large number of meetings and the rumors that it might not stay at The Reaches much longer. A few think it could be disband completely. I don't know. For the time being, I think I'll leave Caucus troubles to Sefton to sort out. I've my hands full without yet one more thing to worry about." Said hands move, lifting to rub at her face before falling into her lap. Eyes open slowly again and Roa quiets. Waiting.
Issa absorbs the information about the Caucus with nothing more than a single slow nod, eyes wandering to Oshisyth, who quietly preens, perched on her couch. Smile stretches across her lips, however, at Roa's mention of her worries, an easier smile than before. "Nabol?" she questions, coolly studying Roa's face to the reaction to that single word. But the kettle turns out to not only be stubborn but inconvenient, for it chooses then to spout a shrill whistle that commands Issa's attention. The greenrider turns, slipping a small towel over her left hand before she pulls the kettle, on its metal arm, out from the fire. When that's completed, she casually notes over her shoulder, "Nabol has coverage, whether it wants it or not."
The Telgari sits up a bit straighter at the mention of Nabol, exhaustion snapping into sudden interest. She waits out the kettle's tantrum with a barely-restrained stillness and then, when Issa shares news of coverage, Roa's eyes widen. "I...you...made contact? Or, someone...they will? They are? Can you...can I know? How things are, there? Do you know?"
"So many questions, Roa," Issa replies quickly, forgoing any procedure and simply tossing the packet of herbs into the kettle whole before turning back with a quiet grin. "News is sparse, other than they've agreed to fly Thread. We have word from Diya and a bluerider there." Her gaze is riveted on the goldrider's features as she saunters over, leaving the tea to brew. She leans down to sit on the arm of the couch, leaning gently back onto the cushions, eyes closing briefly. When they open, they stare at the ceiling.
From a bluerider there. "Ah. Well. Good, that they'll fly." Roa's own eyes lower to examine her hands. "Nenuith is well, then. I'm glad to hear it. She must be close to clutching, now." Her eyes flick up and her shoulders roll. The scrutiny is unnerving. "Is there something else, Issa?" is the quiet question.
It's a long moment before Issa responds. "No. No, not really." Her gaze dances across the distant ceiling, slipping across the shadows there until she pulls it back to Roa, her head turning against the cushions so that she can more easily regard the goldrider. "It's unsettling, is all. Diya and Nenuith, being there. So far away." A brief pause follows, and Issa is motionless throughout. "Did you know any of the Instigators, Roa?" An innocent question, mildly curious at most.
"I suppose it would be," Roa murmurs, leaning back into the couch again. The question catches her off guard, though, and eyes that were lowering to her hands snap up to Issa's face. "I was only nine when everything was revealed," she murmurs. "I can't say as I'd remember if any of the people I knew were accused. So, I suppose it's possible..." shoulders lift and fall. Ho hum.
"Mmm," Issa muses idly. Ho hum, indeed. "I can't imagine how hard it would be. To see someone taken like that. Diya's only been there for a few months. And of her own choice." She no longer watches the small Telgari for reactions, and merely lets her eyes wander. A moment passes and, with a delicate groan of protest, she lifts herself again, stepping over to the cabinet to that side of the couch to retrieve a mug. After a few clinks, one surfaces, clutched tightly in her left hand. "You sure you don't want a cup?"
Hands, it seems, are quite the things to watch. The backs of them first, and then they're slowly turned over so palms can be examined. Roa's contribution to the musings of exile? "Mmm." She shakes her lowered head at the offer of tea. "I'm fine." And then after a moment, "Issa? Do you think it might be possible to send...things there? Small things? Letters and such?"
Issa gives a small shrug and tips closed the cabinet door, walking back to the hearth with her mug. The heat of the kettle is tested with a hesitant touch, the pads of the fingers on her right hand just brushing the surface before they're brought back quickly. Then, the mug is transplanted to that casted hand and gripped as well as is possible, the matter of pouring relegated to her left hand. "Letters? To Diya?" the greenrider inquires, though her attention still lies with pouring out the tea, the heavy kettle tilted gently, haltingly. "Well, we're sending maps, so I'm sure letters would be able to get through somehow." Oh, didn't she mention the maps? There's a splash of liquid that ends up outside the mug, but most of it lands where it's supposed to. The kettle is replaced and she lifts the mug to shamelessly lick the spilled drips from the outside of the cup.
"Maps?" Roa asks to her fingernails. She exhales slowly, squares hers shoulders and lifts her head. Hands settle quietly in her lap, curled around one another. "Of Nabol, do you mean? Will...do you think someone might notice that, after the fact?" A small pause to absorb the rest. "Letters to Diya," she confirms. "How and when should I get them to you?"
"Copies of maps," Issa corrects, and then, with a little shrug adds, "from as reliable a source as we could find, on short notice. It might be noticed, but it might not. We'll have to take that chance." She lifts her mug now for a proper sip, and when she lowers it, there's a small grimace for the taste. "I believe they," this insistence of some vague and mysterious they again, "will make contact again within a day or two. Whenever they can slip away unnoticed. Bring them to me as soon as you can, and I'll see that Diya's letters get into the right hands." With a deliberate step, she moves back to the couch, taking up a more traditional seat on the cushions next to Roa.
A tip of her head, canting it to the right. "And this source...does this source know what the maps are being copied for?" Her nose wrinkles sympathetically with Issa's. "Healer's tea?" she asks, "Are you allowed sweetener? I find drowning it with sweet does wonders for being able to drink it. I'll get the letters to you tomorrow or the day after."
"I've run out," Issa explains, sour amusement sinking into her voice and summoning up a little smile as she lifts the mug in a mock toast and tips out a large gulp. "This source," she says, mug lowering to her lap, cradled against the palm of her left hand, "knows only of its relation to Threadfall over the region. I think they assume that it will be another Reachian attempt. But no mention was made of you or the Instigators, don't worry." She makes as if to drink again, but the mug is stalled halfway, then slowly lowered again. Blue eyes find the goldrider's face and remain, studying what she finds there for the span of a deep sigh. "I'm sorry, Roa, for all this obscurity. If it were my own neck... But I feel the need to protect those involved."
Roa holds a hand up as if to forestall Issa's apology. "It's probably better this way. Especially with dragons involved." There is a tiny smile, pained, actually, that comes to the corner of her mouth. "Can thirty dragons keep a secret?" she murmurs, though almost more to herself than to the greenrider. And then she's looking down at her hands, blinking rapidly, clearing her throat. "Does this all feel surreal to you, too?" she asks after a brief moment of quiet.
Issa swings her feet up, the heels of her boots coming to rest on the trunk with a wooden thud. Her feet stay there, splayed recklessly for a moment before she applies some sort of order, crossing her legs at the ankle. "Yes," she answers quickly, staring down at her scuffed toes. She sips liberally from her mug, swiftly sucking down the bad-tasting liquid. "We're caught in Pern's worst nightmare. And we have to find our way out." Elbow now placed on the arm of the couch, she leans her temple against the fingers curled around the top of her cast, mulling silently. "Of course, the fact that I haven't slept much can't be helping," she offers with a ghost of a smile.
"Shells," Roa rolls her eyes and shakes her head slowly. "We are. I wonder if it's worse now than it was then. I can't...you can't sleep? Is it you or is it Oshisyth?" Roa looks over towards the green on her couch before adding, "It's been suggested to me that meditating when it rains helps. To focus on the sound of the water instead of anything else."
Issa lets out a short spurt of laughter, weak but amused. "No, it's me." Oshisyth separates herself from her grooming long enough to spare the pair of riders a quick, gleamingly green glance before worrying over a particularly troublesome talon. "Though she's due to rise again soon." Something clouds over her gaze as the greenrider watches her dragon, and it's a moment before she tears herself away from whatever ruminations captured her attention. "I'll have to try that," she then comments, offering Roa a small, grateful smile. "Faranth knows this stuff isn't helping." But all the same, she takes another sip.
"Faranth knows," Roa agrees with quiet amusement in her voice. "I don't suppose a green close to rising can help matters much." Her hands tap lightly in her lap. "I guess I'd better go, unless there was anything else? I'll get the letter to you and, ah, a small parcel. Do you think to could manage a parcel? Yea big?" Her hands for the shape of of something about the size of several large tubers.
Issa sizes up the hand gesture, then simply nods, ducking her head for another sip, draining the mug to almost empty. "And I'll tell them to get news from the island as well. For inquiring minds." And then the mug is swiftly drained of the rest of its contents, mouth working over the taste as she drops her feet from their propped position and leans forward to set the empty cup on top of the wooden chest.
"I, yes. I'd like that. I'll include some blank hides. I don't know what they'd have there." Roa pushes up, a smile touching er lips but briefly. "Thank you. For...I don't know. All of it, I suppose. The letters, especially, though."
"I'm sure Diya will be glad to hear from you," Issa responds lightly, as she sinks back into the couch cushions. "You'll forgive me if I don't walk you out?" the greenrider fairly begs, tilting her head back as she slips a smile onto her lips. "I find the very idea of hostess duties exhausting right now."
There's a tiny laugh and Roa only shakes her head. "Considering what all we've been discussing, seems a little funny that you'd fret over such a thing as walking me out. Good night, Issa. I hope you can get some rest." She pushes herself up into a stand and begins for the ledge.
"Sleep well." The farewell Issa calls over the couch back is only halfhearted, too tainted with an laughing scoff to be called truly sincere.