Min and Maps
Location: East Weyr
Time: Evening on Day 6, Month 8, Turn 2
Players: Roa and Miniyal
Scene: Miniyal brings a peace offering that is sure to cause lots of trouble.
It's evening and nearly dinnertime, but there's currently no food around in the weyr. There is only a golden dragon stretched out on the ledge and soaking in the setting sun and, at the desk, a small weyrwoman bent over a hide which she writes on with quiet concentration.
If it had not been a spur of the moment decision there might have been a note sent ahead. If it had not been something done at the last minute when something during the course of the end of her duties reminded her of something else which lead to something else, there might have been time to think twice on what she did. However, it was a spur of the moment thing. One thing led to another and there was no time to send a note for she might have changed her mind then. So, here is Miniyal standing outside the door with a couple of hide cases tucked under one arm. Before her mind changes she simply raises her voice loud enough to carry, should someone be inside. "Hello? Weyrwoman?" A pause and then, "Roa?"
Her head lifts at the 'hello' and she's turning by 'weyrwoman', so by the time her name is said, Roa is fully twisted in her chair and peering over at the unexpected arrival. She pushes her seat back to stand, surprise quiet but still evident on her face. "Miniyal. Hi. I, um, I got your note before. Thank you. Please come in."
A deep breath and then in she goes, finding a brief, small smile to offer by way of greeting. "Thank you. Am I bothering? I know it's dinnertime and all. I can just. . leave. If you're busy?" Because note sent or not it's still a tad bit awkward here for poor Miniyal. Worrying at her lower lip without realising she looks around. "You look at least settled in," she offers. Small talk attempt number one. Sounds rather flat even to her ears.
"You're not bothering at all," Roa offers with a shake of her head. "I was just putting down some thoughts, and they'll keep for later. Do you want to sit down? Would you like anything to drink?" She's lifting her hand to gesture towards the shelf above her desk that sports a few clay bottles and some cups. "I..oh. Thank you." Blue gaze flits over the room that she can already map out with her eyes shut. "I, well, I suppose I have. Settled. In."
Miniyal hesitates near the door a moment longer as if rethinking her whole reason for being here and then nodding once. "If I am not bothering then, well, yes. I could sit." To the drink question, one might assume, she offers a shake of her head as she moves to sit down, clutching what she carries tightly. "I. . .you had brought up when we talked last time certain records." And other less comfortable things that we won't be delving into. She sits, smoothing out her dress as she rests her cases in her lap and then when settled folds her hands over them.
Roa turns her chair around and arranges it so she's sitting near Miniyal, a little off-center to be directly across from her. "I did," she agrees, brows lifting upwards a bit. Her gaze flits down now, to the scroll cases, and then back up to Miniyal.
"I cannot get them. Yet. But I think I will at least be able to read them soon." Miniyal pauses here, head tipping from one side to the next. Weighing her next words, deciding exactly what needs to be offered. "Gans and I were at Harper recently. I think with his help I can get into the records they keep confined from the rest. I cannot guarantee success, but. . .but there is a chance. In the meantime." In the meantime there are those cases that she has yet to explain. Or maybe there's a tiny part of her enjoying dragging out the knowledge that she has something the other woman might want.
There is more brow lifting and Roa partially mimics Miniyal's gesture without realizing it. Her own head tips a bit to the side. "Reading is a good first step," she offers quietly. And then, hands settled in her lap, she only waits to see what will be said next.
She is a hoarder, Miniyal. Of things, secreted away in little caches about the weyr. In secrets, both her own and others. Handing over information is not easy for her. One foot taps on the floor softly, rhythmically, before she stops it and clears her throat quietly. "I anticipate not being allowed to dare carry in copy materials when I view that which they wrongfully do not allow to be read by everyone." Dancing around now before she shrugs her shoulders and sits up straighter, perfect posture one of the few things she might thank her mother for. "I have only to read them, Roa. To be able to return here and copy them at my leisure."
Poor eyebrows. They're not getting any rest at all this evening as up they shoot and hold for a moment, before settling again into a more natural position. "You were born that way," the weyrwoman surmises quietly. "That is...something we have in common, then. I've never met anyone else who could do that, before." A tiny smile touches Roa's lips. "I doubt the Harpers would anticipate it."
A finger taps against the cases again, sliding off the side of the cylinder as her attention is not on it, but the other woman. "I, yes," Miniyal answers with another little shrug. "It's how I do my work. I remember what people do and say and what I read and. . and what I hear." Shaking her head she worries at that poor lower lip again. "It is not something people are aware of and I do not see why they would, no. Any advantage in a fight." A pause as she looks down at her lap and then brusquely picks up the cylinders to hold them out. "In the meantime I have these. They are my own copies so please be careful. I do not think anyone knows I have them still. The one I got them from is not here and most likely does not recall me and his gift."
Roa bends forward, arms outstretched to accept the cylinders...first one, then the other. The second one, instead of being placed in her lap, is held carefully in her hands. Head still tipped down towards it, eyes lift to meet Miniyal's. "May I?" Since her fingers have crept to the cylinder's lid she is, perhaps, asking for permission to open it while Miniyal remains.
"Of course," is the answer, very nearly graciously given. There is, to accompany it, a nod of Miniyal's head as if she were the one with any authority in the weyr and not Roa. How kind she is, see? To offer this gift to someone who so recently upset her. Not that it seems to be her game, that. Whatever her game is? She is not sharing.
Inside the cylinder are maps. They contain several each and are neatly labeled. Copied in Miniyal's own hand according to the bottom of each from one T'rais who did the originals. The original maps that date and locate each incident in the Instigator plot. There is even one of an island in the Western Isles that is noted as 'Conclave's decision on final place.'
The first map is drawn out carefully, and then the others, Roa's attention sliding over each with wordless focus until each has been seen. Gently, they're rolled up and stored away again. "Shells," she whispers. "These are incredible. I had no idea anyone had done this." Her eyes again lift from the cylinders and move to the once records-keeper. "Thank you for showing them to me. I presume you'd like them back now? For the Records Room?"
Her little babies or that his how Miniyal watches how those maps are treated. "If you would like copies I can make them," she says as she studies her hands. More than her short note it seems this is her apology. Glancing up she smiles, fleeting. "I do not like them out of my hands, no. I could reproduce them, but these. . .well, for all he was a grumpy old bastard I was fond of T'rais and would not lose this gift from him. I've had these maps for a long time and never shown them to anyone." And it is not odd she always makes friends with old men! It's just. . .not. Shut up!
The one cylinder is held up, then, and offered to Miniyal. The second is about to be opened to examine what treasures might lie within. "I think, rather than my own personal copy, I'd wish there to be a copy in the Records Room that anyone could read if they wished. Although," Roa's fingers linger on the second canister's lid, "Considering what they contain, I'd be certain it was only a copy made available. There are those who might be inclined to deface them or worse." The second cylinder is opened.
"Defaced or stolen. I do not know where T'rais went when he was done here. Back to Fort I suppose. I would not have him get in trouble for. . .well." Miniyal shrugs once more and smiles, fond for old memories. "I was so young then. That he let he see them and copy them. I would not dishonor him by causing him ill now should he be alive. They have always been in records, Roa. Just. . .not in the open. But, if that is your wish I shall make another copy of each and see they are there." It would be the second cylinder that would have the island map. And the last few spots where raids happened and where some of the Instigators were finally caught. "He was very good, don't you think? I would not be as good as I am now had I not learned what I did from him."
It is the last two maps that are studied for a long time. Roa carefully presses a single finger over one spot on one map. Where J'lor and Nera were captured. Then she looks to the other, the island where the Instigators were all originally left and her lips purse just slightly. After a little while, the hides are rolled up and replaced, and that cylinder is handed over as well. "Thank you, Miniyal," she murmurs softly.
Taking the cylinder back, Miniyal pats it once, resting it in her lap with the other. "You should know, Roa, I'm being very polite and not inquiring what has you so interested in all of this," she remarks casually, glancing down at her hands and shrugging. "However, I am going to some difficulty to get access to the other records to spare your name being attached and, well. . ." Another slow halt of words as she looks up and over at the weyrwoman. "I'm not as polite as Corin wishes and therefore you should be aware I will expect something for my troubles. I'd spare you and tell you what that something is, but at this point I am not sure." Meaning, if she's not willing to be tied to an open-ended favor she should speak up now.
"Ah," says Roa softly as her hands settle in her lap. "Well, I will remind you that I did ask you not to try and get those records, so the curiosity is, in part, your own." So don't ask -too- big a favor. The little weyrwoman swallows once and then continues. "You may do one of two things, Miniyal. First you may, indeed, consider that I am in your debt for your generosity. Or, otherwise," another small breath here, "you may ask G'thon why it is that I'm so interested in all of this, and tell him that I have said he may answer truthfully."
"Well, it never hurts to be owed a favor from someone who will likely be running things someday," Miniyal says cheerfully, dismissing it with a wave of one hand and then shaking her head. "I'm not interested in his words on the matter even if they are your own story. Don't worry, Roa. Lots of people owe me things around here and you see how I live. I do not take advantage of what I have. I just. . ." Another of those stops, words trailing off as if she is caught in a debate on how much to share. Glancing away she studies the door. "I have to look out for myself." The door loses her interest and back to Roa her eyes go. "I rarely collect on anything. But it's comforting to know I have a way out if I need it." Deciding she's probably said to much she taps fingers on her map cases and then clears her throat softly. "I've taken up enough of your time I'm sure."
A tiny smile, a faint hitch of her lips at the mention of her running things. It's more bemused than pleased. "It may be that one day we'll both need a way out," Roa muses quietly. "But if it's in my power to offer you such, Miniyal, when the time comes, I will." She leans back a little in her seat before standing and turning the chair back around. "Thank you for the visit. I should like...G'thon has invited me to dinner some time. I would accept, if you would have me."
Maps in hand, Miniyal rises from her seat as she worries at her lip once more. Her free hand smoothes down nonexistent wrinkles from her dress and she is silent as she steps for the door. Only there by the exit does she turn again to speak. "Gans is fond of you, Roa and I would not deny him anything, let alone the company of someone he considers a friend. We would be pleased to have you at dinner. Send us word when you are free and we'll be sure to be ready to entertain you. It's. . .I should be settled in there in another day or two if you can wait?" Another gesture quite likely missed in that other than her parents she's /told/ no one she's moved in with him. Gossip, of course, hints, but it always does.
For once, any surprise the newest weyrwoman may have felt at that news is perfectly covered. Roa only nods. "I'll send word in a couple of days, then, and we'll arrange a time. I don't need a great deal of entertaining," she promises with a small smile. "I'd be happy to bring dessert or wine or somesuch as well. Just let me know. And, well, thank you again."
"You are welcome," Miniyal murmurs as she opens the door to step out. Another pause and she doesn't look back, speaking softly, enough to make the weyrwoman strain perhaps to hear before she disappears. "I do not think of you as just an entry in some ledger I keep." Then? The only thing to be heard is the swish of her dress as she hurries away.
Time: Evening on Day 6, Month 8, Turn 2
Players: Roa and Miniyal
Scene: Miniyal brings a peace offering that is sure to cause lots of trouble.
It's evening and nearly dinnertime, but there's currently no food around in the weyr. There is only a golden dragon stretched out on the ledge and soaking in the setting sun and, at the desk, a small weyrwoman bent over a hide which she writes on with quiet concentration.
If it had not been a spur of the moment decision there might have been a note sent ahead. If it had not been something done at the last minute when something during the course of the end of her duties reminded her of something else which lead to something else, there might have been time to think twice on what she did. However, it was a spur of the moment thing. One thing led to another and there was no time to send a note for she might have changed her mind then. So, here is Miniyal standing outside the door with a couple of hide cases tucked under one arm. Before her mind changes she simply raises her voice loud enough to carry, should someone be inside. "Hello? Weyrwoman?" A pause and then, "Roa?"
Her head lifts at the 'hello' and she's turning by 'weyrwoman', so by the time her name is said, Roa is fully twisted in her chair and peering over at the unexpected arrival. She pushes her seat back to stand, surprise quiet but still evident on her face. "Miniyal. Hi. I, um, I got your note before. Thank you. Please come in."
A deep breath and then in she goes, finding a brief, small smile to offer by way of greeting. "Thank you. Am I bothering? I know it's dinnertime and all. I can just. . leave. If you're busy?" Because note sent or not it's still a tad bit awkward here for poor Miniyal. Worrying at her lower lip without realising she looks around. "You look at least settled in," she offers. Small talk attempt number one. Sounds rather flat even to her ears.
"You're not bothering at all," Roa offers with a shake of her head. "I was just putting down some thoughts, and they'll keep for later. Do you want to sit down? Would you like anything to drink?" She's lifting her hand to gesture towards the shelf above her desk that sports a few clay bottles and some cups. "I..oh. Thank you." Blue gaze flits over the room that she can already map out with her eyes shut. "I, well, I suppose I have. Settled. In."
Miniyal hesitates near the door a moment longer as if rethinking her whole reason for being here and then nodding once. "If I am not bothering then, well, yes. I could sit." To the drink question, one might assume, she offers a shake of her head as she moves to sit down, clutching what she carries tightly. "I. . .you had brought up when we talked last time certain records." And other less comfortable things that we won't be delving into. She sits, smoothing out her dress as she rests her cases in her lap and then when settled folds her hands over them.
Roa turns her chair around and arranges it so she's sitting near Miniyal, a little off-center to be directly across from her. "I did," she agrees, brows lifting upwards a bit. Her gaze flits down now, to the scroll cases, and then back up to Miniyal.
"I cannot get them. Yet. But I think I will at least be able to read them soon." Miniyal pauses here, head tipping from one side to the next. Weighing her next words, deciding exactly what needs to be offered. "Gans and I were at Harper recently. I think with his help I can get into the records they keep confined from the rest. I cannot guarantee success, but. . .but there is a chance. In the meantime." In the meantime there are those cases that she has yet to explain. Or maybe there's a tiny part of her enjoying dragging out the knowledge that she has something the other woman might want.
There is more brow lifting and Roa partially mimics Miniyal's gesture without realizing it. Her own head tips a bit to the side. "Reading is a good first step," she offers quietly. And then, hands settled in her lap, she only waits to see what will be said next.
She is a hoarder, Miniyal. Of things, secreted away in little caches about the weyr. In secrets, both her own and others. Handing over information is not easy for her. One foot taps on the floor softly, rhythmically, before she stops it and clears her throat quietly. "I anticipate not being allowed to dare carry in copy materials when I view that which they wrongfully do not allow to be read by everyone." Dancing around now before she shrugs her shoulders and sits up straighter, perfect posture one of the few things she might thank her mother for. "I have only to read them, Roa. To be able to return here and copy them at my leisure."
Poor eyebrows. They're not getting any rest at all this evening as up they shoot and hold for a moment, before settling again into a more natural position. "You were born that way," the weyrwoman surmises quietly. "That is...something we have in common, then. I've never met anyone else who could do that, before." A tiny smile touches Roa's lips. "I doubt the Harpers would anticipate it."
A finger taps against the cases again, sliding off the side of the cylinder as her attention is not on it, but the other woman. "I, yes," Miniyal answers with another little shrug. "It's how I do my work. I remember what people do and say and what I read and. . and what I hear." Shaking her head she worries at that poor lower lip again. "It is not something people are aware of and I do not see why they would, no. Any advantage in a fight." A pause as she looks down at her lap and then brusquely picks up the cylinders to hold them out. "In the meantime I have these. They are my own copies so please be careful. I do not think anyone knows I have them still. The one I got them from is not here and most likely does not recall me and his gift."
Roa bends forward, arms outstretched to accept the cylinders...first one, then the other. The second one, instead of being placed in her lap, is held carefully in her hands. Head still tipped down towards it, eyes lift to meet Miniyal's. "May I?" Since her fingers have crept to the cylinder's lid she is, perhaps, asking for permission to open it while Miniyal remains.
"Of course," is the answer, very nearly graciously given. There is, to accompany it, a nod of Miniyal's head as if she were the one with any authority in the weyr and not Roa. How kind she is, see? To offer this gift to someone who so recently upset her. Not that it seems to be her game, that. Whatever her game is? She is not sharing.
Inside the cylinder are maps. They contain several each and are neatly labeled. Copied in Miniyal's own hand according to the bottom of each from one T'rais who did the originals. The original maps that date and locate each incident in the Instigator plot. There is even one of an island in the Western Isles that is noted as 'Conclave's decision on final place.'
The first map is drawn out carefully, and then the others, Roa's attention sliding over each with wordless focus until each has been seen. Gently, they're rolled up and stored away again. "Shells," she whispers. "These are incredible. I had no idea anyone had done this." Her eyes again lift from the cylinders and move to the once records-keeper. "Thank you for showing them to me. I presume you'd like them back now? For the Records Room?"
Her little babies or that his how Miniyal watches how those maps are treated. "If you would like copies I can make them," she says as she studies her hands. More than her short note it seems this is her apology. Glancing up she smiles, fleeting. "I do not like them out of my hands, no. I could reproduce them, but these. . .well, for all he was a grumpy old bastard I was fond of T'rais and would not lose this gift from him. I've had these maps for a long time and never shown them to anyone." And it is not odd she always makes friends with old men! It's just. . .not. Shut up!
The one cylinder is held up, then, and offered to Miniyal. The second is about to be opened to examine what treasures might lie within. "I think, rather than my own personal copy, I'd wish there to be a copy in the Records Room that anyone could read if they wished. Although," Roa's fingers linger on the second canister's lid, "Considering what they contain, I'd be certain it was only a copy made available. There are those who might be inclined to deface them or worse." The second cylinder is opened.
"Defaced or stolen. I do not know where T'rais went when he was done here. Back to Fort I suppose. I would not have him get in trouble for. . .well." Miniyal shrugs once more and smiles, fond for old memories. "I was so young then. That he let he see them and copy them. I would not dishonor him by causing him ill now should he be alive. They have always been in records, Roa. Just. . .not in the open. But, if that is your wish I shall make another copy of each and see they are there." It would be the second cylinder that would have the island map. And the last few spots where raids happened and where some of the Instigators were finally caught. "He was very good, don't you think? I would not be as good as I am now had I not learned what I did from him."
It is the last two maps that are studied for a long time. Roa carefully presses a single finger over one spot on one map. Where J'lor and Nera were captured. Then she looks to the other, the island where the Instigators were all originally left and her lips purse just slightly. After a little while, the hides are rolled up and replaced, and that cylinder is handed over as well. "Thank you, Miniyal," she murmurs softly.
Taking the cylinder back, Miniyal pats it once, resting it in her lap with the other. "You should know, Roa, I'm being very polite and not inquiring what has you so interested in all of this," she remarks casually, glancing down at her hands and shrugging. "However, I am going to some difficulty to get access to the other records to spare your name being attached and, well. . ." Another slow halt of words as she looks up and over at the weyrwoman. "I'm not as polite as Corin wishes and therefore you should be aware I will expect something for my troubles. I'd spare you and tell you what that something is, but at this point I am not sure." Meaning, if she's not willing to be tied to an open-ended favor she should speak up now.
"Ah," says Roa softly as her hands settle in her lap. "Well, I will remind you that I did ask you not to try and get those records, so the curiosity is, in part, your own." So don't ask -too- big a favor. The little weyrwoman swallows once and then continues. "You may do one of two things, Miniyal. First you may, indeed, consider that I am in your debt for your generosity. Or, otherwise," another small breath here, "you may ask G'thon why it is that I'm so interested in all of this, and tell him that I have said he may answer truthfully."
"Well, it never hurts to be owed a favor from someone who will likely be running things someday," Miniyal says cheerfully, dismissing it with a wave of one hand and then shaking her head. "I'm not interested in his words on the matter even if they are your own story. Don't worry, Roa. Lots of people owe me things around here and you see how I live. I do not take advantage of what I have. I just. . ." Another of those stops, words trailing off as if she is caught in a debate on how much to share. Glancing away she studies the door. "I have to look out for myself." The door loses her interest and back to Roa her eyes go. "I rarely collect on anything. But it's comforting to know I have a way out if I need it." Deciding she's probably said to much she taps fingers on her map cases and then clears her throat softly. "I've taken up enough of your time I'm sure."
A tiny smile, a faint hitch of her lips at the mention of her running things. It's more bemused than pleased. "It may be that one day we'll both need a way out," Roa muses quietly. "But if it's in my power to offer you such, Miniyal, when the time comes, I will." She leans back a little in her seat before standing and turning the chair back around. "Thank you for the visit. I should like...G'thon has invited me to dinner some time. I would accept, if you would have me."
Maps in hand, Miniyal rises from her seat as she worries at her lip once more. Her free hand smoothes down nonexistent wrinkles from her dress and she is silent as she steps for the door. Only there by the exit does she turn again to speak. "Gans is fond of you, Roa and I would not deny him anything, let alone the company of someone he considers a friend. We would be pleased to have you at dinner. Send us word when you are free and we'll be sure to be ready to entertain you. It's. . .I should be settled in there in another day or two if you can wait?" Another gesture quite likely missed in that other than her parents she's /told/ no one she's moved in with him. Gossip, of course, hints, but it always does.
For once, any surprise the newest weyrwoman may have felt at that news is perfectly covered. Roa only nods. "I'll send word in a couple of days, then, and we'll arrange a time. I don't need a great deal of entertaining," she promises with a small smile. "I'd be happy to bring dessert or wine or somesuch as well. Just let me know. And, well, thank you again."
"You are welcome," Miniyal murmurs as she opens the door to step out. Another pause and she doesn't look back, speaking softly, enough to make the weyrwoman strain perhaps to hear before she disappears. "I do not think of you as just an entry in some ledger I keep." Then? The only thing to be heard is the swish of her dress as she hurries away.