Gather, Ye Faithful
Location: Gather Grounds (mostly)
Time: Days 12-14 in Month 8, Turn 2
Players: Roa, Aida, D'ven, Miniyal, G'thon, Vanya, K'rom, Reyce, Issa, Rysia, Imari, Akos, Neiran and various NPCs
Scene: Instead of posting each gather log or link separately, here they all are for your perusal, if you are so inclined.
On the first day, Roa shows up with Aida but then must skip out, suddenly.
On the second day, Roa has
...dinner with Issa...
The note Issa sent Roa a couple of days ago was short and sweet, her thin script slanting across the page inviting the weyrwoman to a dinner a night in the middle of the gather. 'If our weyrwoman isn't too busy charming foreign dignitaries, perhaps she could spare the time for an evening dinner with a plain, but fond greenrider. The 13th day, maybe? I'll even promise a dessert. Issa.'
Sunset throws Oshisyth's flattened lump of a ledge into shadow, only a small flicker of glowlight from within the weyr lighting the stone surface. The tiny green is unaccounted for, however, not even present on the dragon couch that's visible through the open curtain. So the ledge is completely clear, free to be monopolized by the invited gold and her rider. Inside the weyr, a fire burns merrily in the hearth, cutting through the glowlight to toss its warmth over Issa, who's bustling around the sitting area. She has a bottle in one hand and a pair of glasses in the other, and pauses to survey her set up on the floor before setting them on top of the wooden chest.
Tialith is not one to turn away an available ledge. She lands and claims it by settling squarely in the center. Well, she's the only one there, after all. On her, the little rider has a bit of trouble scrambling down because, well, she's dressed up. And in heels. Gathers. But click-clack, the elevated shoes make a chipper sound on the stone as Roa steps inside and looks around. A small smile curls her mouth as she takes in the comforting environs. "This..." she murmurs, "is much more appealing than a large crowd. Good evening, Issa. You look well."
And Issa does, indeed, look well. From the looks of it, she's been to the Gather already today, though her Gather wear isn't nearly as fancy as Roa's. She wears a flowy white skirt and an embroidered wine red tunic, her hair pinned up and adorned with tiny, white mountain flowers. Though she's definitely not wearing heels. Barefoot, she pads across to lean against the back of the couch, her skirt draping down across her legs. "But you look like you belong in a big crowd, Roa," the greenrider teases, mouth curving into a gentle smile. "Right next to Sinopa in all her glory." The smell of food drifts up from the area around the hearth, simple fare at odds with their festive garb. "I hope you don't mind sitting on the floor. I didn't think we could really fit a table, in here." And Issa casts a glance over her shoulder at the rug, with a few trays and two empty plates ready to be filled.
There is a small groan and a roll of her eyes as Roa is compared to that other dark-haired Reachian weyrwoman. "I have been stabbed through the heart," she gasps. One hand lifts and settles over her chest, but her eyes are dancing. "I wasn't made for crowds, but I'm learning to fake it. Oh, shells..." her attention falls onto Issa's bare feet. "You're brilliant." The little weyrwoman is crouching down and quickly removing her own footwear before padding over to the spot indicated on the floor. "I don't mind at all. Anything I can do to help serve?"
Issa pushes off of the edge of the couch, and turns in after Roa, crossing around behind the weyrwoman to take up the spot on the far side. "All set," she answers with a tiny shake of her head. "I wouldn't dare have the weyrwoman lift a finger." The greenrider grins across at Roa and sinks to the floor with one fluid movement, crossing her legs in a posture that's highly inappropriate for the company of a weyrwoman. "Sit, sit," she urges, waving her palm at the floor insistently. "I'm starving. What have you been doing at the Gather all day?"
The weyrwoman snorts softly and sinks down into a pool of grey and purple cloth before one of the plates. "I have been trying to listen. The Lords have all gathered together except, as far as I can tell, Odern. So. Something is stirring." There is a tiny smirk. "Dragonriders are not the only ones to plot over Nabol." Perhaps the double entendre of the word 'over' is intentional. "What's for dinner?"
"So I've heard," Issa comments, cryptically, eyebrows raising over a sneaking smile as she leans over to uncover the trays arranged on the rug. With little flourishes, she introduces the dishes as she reveals them. "A fabulous roast wherry," and she adopts an affected accent, "with delicately steamed vegetables and a light butter sauce." And on to the next tray. "And for accompaniment, um... bread," she finishes in anticlimactic fashion, chuckling as the adjectives fail her. "And then some spice cake for dessert. Yes," she says, separating from the food then, "I've heard mutterings. But all I know for sure is that Benden is there." Wonder where she got that idea. "Do you know anything about what, exactly, they're plotting?" she asks, done with the unveiling and picking up her plate to begin serving herself, a cue for Roa to do the same.
Plate is lifted and dinner is served. Wherry and vegetables and bread. The cake is left for later. "I suppose you would have heard," Roa muses. "How did the flight go, by the by? Everything worked out as you'd hoped?" The plate is lowered and a fork grabbed, though eating doesn't yet begin. "Tialith's been keeping an eye on the dragons coming and going. As far as I can tell...they're all here. At..." her head tips to the side, "...the behest of Benden?" It is a question for Issa. "Everyone but Nabol. So..."
Issa's smile widens, tucked away as she keeps her gaze on the wherry she's stabbing with her fork and dragging over to her plate. "Mostly," she responds as soon as she's reined in that impulsive response to Roa's question. "Mostly as I'd hoped, yes. Thanks." But she leaves the mystery of it intact and doesn't explain further. Something else catches her ear. "At the behest of Benden," she repeats, her gaze darting up to meet the goldrider's as she leans back, full plate balanced across her folded ankles. There's a pause, though, instead of an outflow of enlightening information. With a slight heft of her fork, she continues, peering down at her plate as she spears a chunk of wherry and a cubed tuber together onto the end of it. "I wish I could tell you I know more than you," she finally says, "but I don't." One corner of her mouth twists out of her pleasant smile, conveying her slight displeasure. "He's been rather close-mouthed about the whole thing." Mischief springs to her returning smile. "I'll probably just have to do a little investigating and see if I can find anything out on my own."
Dark brows quirk just slightly at the last, but then she notes, "Well, he is meeting privately with the Headmaster, so I can't say I'm overly surprised he's keeping quiet. It's a compliment to you, really. If not the most useful compliment in the world." A small bite of vegetable is speared and eaten as toes wiggle beneath her skirts. "And I'm afraid at this point, all I know is that a great many Lords have something to say to one another and have come to High Reaches Hold to do it. Do you suppose we could...well, there is another aspect of Nabol I was hoping to hear more about."
"He can spare me the compliments," Issa says through a quick laugh as she turns her fork on its side to separate a chunk of wherry into smaller halves. One of those halves is ferried up to the greenrider's mouth and she chews over it delicately as she listens, eyes idly drifting to watch the fire to her left. But her gaze is drawn back to Roa, newly probing, as a sentence is cut off from its ending. It's only her gaze, though, that probes, her words passing on as if she'd noticed nothing. "The fall," Issa guesses, covering her smile as she finishes swallowing her bite. Then she gives a tiny shrug. "Could've been a worse mess. Far worse," she hazards. "They flew well... we all did... considering the surprise for both sides. Well, /most/ of both sides." Issa lets her words lag briefly as she tears herself a hunk of bread and sets it gingerly at the edge of her plate. "R'vain flew with us," she says blandly, "I'm fairly certain he, at least, recognized them. I don't know. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to encourage our own rebel wings..." She trails off, tearing off a corner of her ragged slice of bread thoughtfully. "But we needed the extra fighters." And the little piece is popped into her mouth.
"I know he did," Roa notes softly, and with a faint frown. "I hadn't expected it. I hadn't, really, expected the Reaches to fly at all, but..." she exhales slowly. "The injuries seemed minimal. And only one rider lost. Do you know how many injuries on their end?" The plate is studied, but no more food is taken just yet. "D'ven recognized them as well. And Br'ce, I think. I'm not sure who else. Enough that word is going to travel rather quickly. Which is good, I suppose." The faint frown reappears. "I wish R'vain had stayed out of it, though."
Issa is eating, but half-heartedly. Occasionally, a small piece of food makes it to her mouth, but most of the time the food sits beneath her idle fork, growing less warm by the second. "They lost a brown," she says with a wince in her voice for the significance of that loss for the exiles. "That's all I know." The greenrider clears her throat and passes her gaze over to the forgotten wine bottle, condensation slipping down its chilled sides. Placing her plate temporarily on the floor, she leans over to retrieve it and the two wineglasses, offering one wordlessly to Roa. "I wish R'vain would stay out of a lot of things," she replies a trifle sourly. "I think if we lay low for a while, though, we'll escape notice. With all the attention on the exiles, it's likely that they'll be looking for a connection. I'll just have to refrain from asking for questionable maps for a little while." Her grin quirks again as she uncorks the bottle and pours out some wine into her glass, a pale white wine that Roa will find much sweeter than any of the others Issa will have offered in the past. She learns at least. The bottle is then tilted in the weyrwoman's direction, eyebrows raised questioningly.
At the news, a brown, Roa's brows draw sharply down and she bites down on her bottom lip. Her eyes lower and dart from left to right as her thoughts race, something flicking through her mind. "Who do you-" but the question is ended before it begins. "Ah, Faranth. That's only thirty left. Thirty one, if you count..." And eggs. The weyrwoman shakes her head slowly, accepting the wine to take a generous sip. Then her attention darts back up again. "Maps? She copied them already? You saw them?"
Issa nods slowly at the weyrwoman's reaction to the revelation, muttering a soft, "Thirty," over the rim of her glass before she sips quickly. Apparently, she doesn't count that unnamed thirty-first, the goldrider in voluntary exile. The bottle is set down next to the still-covered tray (which one would assume holds the promised spice cake), leaving it uncorked for easy access. "I was talking about the maps I had made. Of Nabol, Threadfall patterns. You know. The ones I told you about." A mild frown flickers into place above her curious stare. "What are you talking about?"
It only takes a single blink for understanding. "Of course you were," Roa murmurs. "I'm sorry, I just..." was stuck on that brown. "Miniyal showed me some maps she had the other day. A rider friend of hers had made them. They were, Issa, they were amazing. They noted every single attack, where they were caught, where they were dropped off in exile. She's going to make copies." A tiny smile, "for the records room. For others to see."
Issa is about to indulge in another bite when Roa makes clear exactly what maps she was talking about. The fork pauses and her mouth is frozen open for a moment by the information. Eventually, she takes the bite and gnaws on it silently as she stares pensively past Roa's left shoulder. "You know," she begins then, "that this is very bad timing for such a thing. Someone's going to notice, Roa." Behind pressed lips, she runs her tongue over her teeth. "There's only so much coincidence people are willing to allow these days. You're keeping it quiet?"
"I am, and so is she. This is something Miniyal has taken on herself and..." a small nod. "I know. You're right. But she has interests in them that have nothing to do with what's happened. I don't think I can convince her to stop, just now. I'm not certain I should try, and attempting to explain the reasons would be...well. A mess." Roa's eyes close and one hand comes up so that her fingers can massage the inner corners and pinch the bridge of her nose. "She plans to go to Harper. To read the locked files they have there. To copy them. But. If anyone can keep a secret, it would be Miniyal."
Issa allows herself a secretive smile as the subject turns to Miniyal's secrecy, and she offers a quiet, "I know." But then she falls silent again, mulling over what Roa's said as she nurses her wine, small sips interrupting what would otherwise be a simple blank stare at the fire. Slowly, her smile grows and she becomes more and more amused by the whole thing, slowly shaking her head as she turns back to look at Roa. "I'm glad it's you, mixed up in it, then. You have a measure of immunity I wouldn't have, if you're found out." There's something lurking in the way she gazes across at the weyrwoman, a darker suspicion that barely brushes the surface before being buried in the usual cheer again. With a burst of laughter, she says, "What I wouldn't do to get my hands on those hides, though. Shards, how is she planning on doing it?"
The weyrwoman's head tips to the side, unawares or unwilling to ask about that more closed look she's given. "I wish I -wasn't- tied up in it. I don't want any...shells. I need to start being more careful." Her eyes are still closed, so maybe she just missed that look entirely. "Well, I suspect she's going to have G'thon take her. The man testified in the trials. He wants to read records on them, I can't imagine anyone would say no. Once she reads them...well...she has her ways. They won't notice, but she'll have gained the means to copy them. Which she intends to do. And slip them into our records." -Pinch- that bridge of her nose. Her hand drops and eyes open slowly. "I didn't think it would start rolling so quickly."
Issa seems comforted that the situation is under control, and has returned to the steady eating of her dinner, though it's with a decidedly more preoccupied air. "Neither did I," she admits in between bites. "But it is. Where do we go from here, Roa? Nenuith will have clutched by now. There are people alerted to the fact that not everyone has forgotten about those left on the island." Though her glass isn't quite empty, Issa reaches for the bottle to replenish her wine. "Where do we go?" she repeats, quieter, almost to herself as her eyes go a bit glassy and she stares down at her drink.
Roa sets her fork down so she can fold her hands into her lap and simply stare at that uneaten food. She inhales and exhales slowly. "I am considering speaking to G'thon. Seeing what he might be interested in doing. He's..." a quirk of her lips, "going to become an Instructor at the Caucus." A small pause. Than then, "Ethics."
"G'thon?" The name is startled out of Issa, falling quietly in between Roa's words. Her eyes fly to Roa's face to puzzle out the origin of this name and how it relates to the conversation at hand. Then, "Mmm." And that's all. For a while anyway, as she deals with the small piece of steamed broccoli she's slipped into her mouth. "What do you think he can do?" There's a severe doubt there for the dragonless man's abilities, lying just below the surface of her casual words.
"He's going to have direct access to students. He's going to be teaching ethics. I think he can set people thinking, if he were so inclined. I don't doubt it's something he's already considered himself, but perhaps it might be worth letting on that he wouldn't have to do so alone." Roa tilts her hands, studying them silently for a moment. "Other than that, I think for now we listen to what people are saying. What they thought of Nabol. And, eventually, we push the eggs. What that means."
"Be careful with G'thon," Issa warns, shaking the empty tip of her fork at the goldrider. "He might be of some help, but... I don't know." The finish is weaker, resigned and she uses a crust of her bread to dip into the sauce left behind on her plate. "I can listen," she decides with a nod, grinning as she nibbles at the edge of that crust. "Do we know who is going to be in that class, yet?" she then asks, her mind already jumping ahead in their sequence to find more points of influence as the rest of the bread disappears into her mouth.
"I know," Roa says softly. "He...was one of the people that got me thinking about all of this. He did it intentionally. I think it's part of why Diya..." her lips press down and she sighs softly. "Anyhow. Class. Besides myself, I'm not sure. But I think there will be a large interest, if only because of the Instructor."
Diya. The name brings a pressing of Issa's own lips and she reaches for her glass, washing down that bite of bread with a large swig. "Mmm," she hums again, pondering. "And I assume Sefton gets to choose which of those will be put in the class? Or does G'thon have that say, you think?" All signs signify some degree of plotting going on inside that head of hers. Eyes are thinned, her mouth curves up again into a subtle smile, and her fingernails rap against the base of her wineglass, recently returned to its spot on the floor. "I think we could convince G'thon to, at least, put in a good word for anyone we particularly would like to see in the class."
"I expect there will be a bit of both. There seems to be a mutual respect there, so those Sefton recommends will be incorporated, but so will those G'thon chooses." Roa cants her head a little again as she considers. "What I'd really like to do is put something together for non-caucus folks. A study group or somesuch. A place to voice ideas. But, not now. It's too soon, now."
Issa's interest distracts her from the tuber and greens combination she's just bitten off of her fork, her mouth immobile as she turns an eyebrow up in response. Slowly but surely, she begins to chew, and Roa has to wait for that bite to disappear before anything is spoken. "Too soon," she agrees, and adds, "Too dangerous." Shaking her head, she takes her plate and removes it from her lap again, abandoning it on the floor though there's still a whole slice of wherry sitting there among the remains of her vegetables. "Even before Nabol." Then, she seems to reconsider, gaze wandering. Her knees are drawn up to her chest and she rocks back a bit. "Well. Maybe. If it's done right. Carefully. Did you have specific people in mind, for these non-caucus folks?" Pale blue eyes return with a glint as she quotes Roa's words back to her, grinning as strongly as ever.
"I know," Roa says softly as soon as Issa reiterates the 'too soon'. "I'm not as foolish as all that. But, offhand, I should think Essdara. Tavaly. T'zen. Kianda. Rysia, if she wanted. Miniyal. Anyone, really, who wanted to come. That would be the point. But, Dara and T'zen, all on their own, could turn a secret into common knowledge in under a day so...quieter times. It will have to wait for now, unless..." One brow lifts at that sudden gleam in Issa's eye.
Issa throws her arms around her knees and her gaze to the ceiling as Roa rattles off those few names, nodding her head slightly over each of them. "Unless it's not a secret," Issa finishes, tilting her chin back down just far enough to catch the goldrider in her sights. "Dinner with a few friends, after all, is nothing to hide." She shrugs, lifting one hand away to scoop up her wineglass. "It doesn't have to begin quite so formally as a study group. A good dinner debate never hurt anyone." She takes a small sip and mischief springs to her smile full force as she lowers her glass again. "Do you want some cake?"
"No...a good dinner debate never did..." Roa's eyes brighten just a bit. "Though I think..." then bright eyes are positively twinkling. "We never did do anything, you know. To celebrate my transfer." And then, with a belated glance at her barely-touched plate and then a playful smirk. "Cake would be lovely."
"A celebration," Issa says with an exaggerated nod as she unfolds herself, legs crossing again as she reaches across to the last, lidded tray. "I think that's exactly what we need. And many more celebrations to follow in its wake. With a whole host of ideas to exchange in the meantime." With a grin, she uncovers the tray, revealing two tinier plates laden with rather large wedges of spice cake. The tray is then offered to the weyrwoman first, Issa leaning across the top of the lukewarm remains of the rest of their little feast.
"But a quiet one," amends the goldrider as she selects a plate with cake. "Thank you. It didn't happen under very good circumstances, and it's in poor taste to flaunt it anyhow. But, I don't see why a few of my friends and I might not wish to quietly celebrate the fact that I'm staying here. A bit of food. A bit of alcohol. A bit of chatter..." The little plate of cake is set down and turned, turned, turned, though no food is touched. "And perhaps the idle idea of a routine meeting for dinner. To make sure, despite our different and busy lives, we remain in touch."
"It is, after all, going to be more difficult. To keep in touch. Now that you have more duties on top of all your Caucus work." It seems decided then, as Issa takes the piece of cake left to her and sets the tray down to one side, that she's completely in favor of this subtle next step. She retrieves her fork from the abandoned plate and clears it of clinging sauce by sticking it briefly in her mouth. "How is that going, by the way? Are your studies suffering at all?" she asks, sweeping her fork through the air in a broad gesture at the goldrider before it's stuck into the tip of the cake.
The motion of cleaning her fork is repeated with Roa's own, the bits of oil sucked free before tines are set to cake. A bite is cut off, chewed, and swallowed. "I don't know. So much has been going on...I'm paying less attention to them, but I'm still doing well. My other duties have been...not very much. Sinopa is, hmm, possessive of what she sees as hers. I am not being consulted on much of anything, let alone asked to help." Another bite gone. After she swallows, "I suppose I can't blame her."
"Mmm," Issa offers as commentary while she eats her cake. "Faranth help us all if that keeps up. Sinopa hardly knows a tithing inventory from a tea kettle. And I think that's only because she's had to color coordinate the latter." As dryly delivered as it is, the greenrider can't help but smile wider over that observation, dipping her chin to hide it somewhat as she crumbles off another piece of cake and balances it on top of her fork. But it remains balanced for a long moment, before ever moving from that spot just above the plate. Issa's lost temporarily in a stare at the corner of the wherry tray, smile settling into something more subdued. "Would you have done anything differently, Roa?" The question is a departure from the light chatter of before, carrying a much deeper connotation. But she softens it considerably with her casual tone, so that it falls into the conversation without too much disruption to their pleasant dinner environment. "If you knew things were going to turn out like this."
The cake is stared at and slowly consumed as Issa speaks. The comment about tea kettles earns a small snicker from the goldrider and almost has her snorting a bit of frosting. The smile lingers on her lips but fades at the final question. "I...there are so many 'like thises' that I'm not even sure which you mean. Nabol's fall? Igen? E'sere and Aivey? Being transferred? All of it?"
Issa considers over the taste of the cake, balancing her plate across one palm as she reaches for her wine to wash it down. After a strong sip, she says decidedly, "All of it," a challenge in her voice that tells she knows it will make the goldrider's answer more difficult.
"All of it," Roa repeats with a soft sigh. "I...no. I suppose I would change one or two things. All in all, though, I think I'd have done the same. It's hard to tell. To separate it out enough, because everything leads into somethng else. So, how can we know, if one thing didn't happen, if the next piece, something good, would still fall into place?" The fork is set down, the cake gone. "And you? Would you do it all the same?"
"True," Issa says, thoughtfully skeptical, before she slips another tiny corner of cake into her mouth. With such small bites, she has a teetering edge of her cake still remaining on her plate as Roa finished her own. She seems ready to say more, but manners dictate she wait until she's dealt with that bite of cake. And, in the end, it's that bite that trips her up, for it's while she chews that Roa poses that question she sought to avoid. Her eyes drop to her wineglass and she picks it up, a mild diversion. The answer to that question comes in the form of a simple nod, quick at first then slowing until she pauses completely to drink. Cake plate and wine glass find a spot on the floor near her dinner plate, then, though only the wineglass receives any more of her attention, her hand idly spinning it where it stands. "I fed it, Roa," she finally says, voice grown thin. "Helped E'sere. Talked about loyalty, about fighting back. Fighting back," she repeats breathily, as if she can't believe it herself. Who knew they would fight back with poison?
"That's the trouble with 'then', really. You never know what you should have. But I don't think...if E'sere is guilty, then I don't imagine there is anything you could have said, right or wrong, that would have changed anything." Roa shifts a bit to draw up her knees and rest her chin atop it. "Things got worse, before they got better, but if they hadn't, we might never have caught them."
"Yeah." It sounds wholly unconvinced, coming so quietly from Issa's mouth. She heaves a vocal sigh, then, and picks up her smile again. "We won't talk about the what ifs, then," she decides suddenly. "This is Gather time. We're supposed to be drinking and carousing, and all sorts of merry things." As if to demonstrate, she picks up her wineglass and downs the rest of what's left. The action though, rather than merry, seems to be bracing her against the thoughts that brought up the topic in the first place. "Oh, I went to see that Aivey, girl, actually," she informs the goldrider, tilting an empty glass in her direction. "Guards wanted me to see if it was really her. As if I saw her in the first place," Issa scoffs good naturedly. "Said the new weyrwoman had been down, too..." An eyebrow slowly arches as she leans back, using her arms to prop herself up.
"She was...I was down. I wanted to see her eyes. And, I suppose, to speak to her." Roa exhales softly. "Gathers," she groans, eyes closing. "Shells. Three. Days. Whatever happened to the good ole one night, there and gone gathers of yore?" A small pause before looping back around. "They were the right eyes. Could you tell anything by speaking to her? Besides the fact that she likes to dig her fingers into open wounds?"
Issa's grin gains a malicious tilt for a brief moment as she says, matter of factly, "I dug back." Then, with a shrug, she sighs again and the caustic curl of her lips fades into its more pleasant, normal curvature. "Tried to, at least. But it was the right voice as well. Really... creepy, even though I knew she's been confined now. Has she said anything about Yevide?" The name feels heavy on the lips even now, and Issa can't say it without a miniscule wince, a tensing of her mouth over its pronunciation.
"No." The word is really just a sigh. "And considering what she has bragged about doing, it makes me inclined to think she didn't play a part in that. I...according to J'cor, there is no evidence to suggest either she or E'sere did it. The Weyrleader seemsto think that circumstances imply they didn't."
Incredulous, Issa lets her eyebrows tell of her surprise, both rising as high as possible. "No? But..." But it was so convenient that way. So perfectly logical. So perfectly simple. Something that High Reaches has been lacking as of late. "But then... who?" The greenrider pushes off of her hands, leaning forward to place both elbows on her knees.
A slow headshake. "I have absolutely no idea," Roa says with a long, slow sigh. "Perhaps, when Morelenth is questioned we'll be given a clue. Or an unexpected confession." There is a dullness in her voice, however. A skepticism that things will be packaged so neatly.
Issa's gaze drifts upward, jumping over Roa's head as she considers the possibilities. But with a snapping motion, her eyes return to the goldrider. "Oh, who knows," is what she concludes, hastily and with a note of frustration. "Why can't we stay away from this stuff for more than two minutes?" she asks with a laugh, raising her palms and plopping her forehead down into both of them. Shoulders still rolling under her quiet amusement, she lifts her head again just far enough to catch sight of the goldrider. "We are so hopeless."
"I don't know. Because, I guess, there's not too many other folks to talk it over with." A small huff and then Roa notes, "but perhaps it's time to stop for the night. I did promise to meet someone at the Gather, and I'm already running late."
"At least we're hopeless together," Issa comments, tilting her head so that it rests on only one palm, the other hand dropping away to fiddle with her empty wineglass again. "I didn't mean to make you late. Go. You're too busy to be dawdling with greenriders now," she says with a teasing grin to accompany it. "I'll drink myself merry in your honor." And with that, she picks up the bottle of wine and begins to pour herself another glass. It's already chilled, after all.
"Hopeless together, I am finding, is much nicer than hopeless alone." Roa is pushing up into a stand, smoothing the skirt of her gown, but at that rib about greenriders, the weyrwoman only wrinkles up her nose and sticks out her tongue. Nyah. But it dissolves into a grin as hateful shoes are gathered up and, still dangling from her fingers, the little goldrider breaks into a light jog for the ledge and the queen waiting there.
and then makes another appearance at the Gather. Aida is there, but so is D'ven. This ends up being a good thing.
On the third day, Roa is one of the many who witness some very big news.
And that's how it all went down.
Many thanks to Miniyal, Aida, and Reyce for posting the logs I have linked here.
Time: Days 12-14 in Month 8, Turn 2
Players: Roa, Aida, D'ven, Miniyal, G'thon, Vanya, K'rom, Reyce, Issa, Rysia, Imari, Akos, Neiran and various NPCs
Scene: Instead of posting each gather log or link separately, here they all are for your perusal, if you are so inclined.
On the first day, Roa shows up with Aida but then must skip out, suddenly.
On the second day, Roa has
...dinner with Issa...
The note Issa sent Roa a couple of days ago was short and sweet, her thin script slanting across the page inviting the weyrwoman to a dinner a night in the middle of the gather. 'If our weyrwoman isn't too busy charming foreign dignitaries, perhaps she could spare the time for an evening dinner with a plain, but fond greenrider. The 13th day, maybe? I'll even promise a dessert. Issa.'
Sunset throws Oshisyth's flattened lump of a ledge into shadow, only a small flicker of glowlight from within the weyr lighting the stone surface. The tiny green is unaccounted for, however, not even present on the dragon couch that's visible through the open curtain. So the ledge is completely clear, free to be monopolized by the invited gold and her rider. Inside the weyr, a fire burns merrily in the hearth, cutting through the glowlight to toss its warmth over Issa, who's bustling around the sitting area. She has a bottle in one hand and a pair of glasses in the other, and pauses to survey her set up on the floor before setting them on top of the wooden chest.
Tialith is not one to turn away an available ledge. She lands and claims it by settling squarely in the center. Well, she's the only one there, after all. On her, the little rider has a bit of trouble scrambling down because, well, she's dressed up. And in heels. Gathers. But click-clack, the elevated shoes make a chipper sound on the stone as Roa steps inside and looks around. A small smile curls her mouth as she takes in the comforting environs. "This..." she murmurs, "is much more appealing than a large crowd. Good evening, Issa. You look well."
And Issa does, indeed, look well. From the looks of it, she's been to the Gather already today, though her Gather wear isn't nearly as fancy as Roa's. She wears a flowy white skirt and an embroidered wine red tunic, her hair pinned up and adorned with tiny, white mountain flowers. Though she's definitely not wearing heels. Barefoot, she pads across to lean against the back of the couch, her skirt draping down across her legs. "But you look like you belong in a big crowd, Roa," the greenrider teases, mouth curving into a gentle smile. "Right next to Sinopa in all her glory." The smell of food drifts up from the area around the hearth, simple fare at odds with their festive garb. "I hope you don't mind sitting on the floor. I didn't think we could really fit a table, in here." And Issa casts a glance over her shoulder at the rug, with a few trays and two empty plates ready to be filled.
There is a small groan and a roll of her eyes as Roa is compared to that other dark-haired Reachian weyrwoman. "I have been stabbed through the heart," she gasps. One hand lifts and settles over her chest, but her eyes are dancing. "I wasn't made for crowds, but I'm learning to fake it. Oh, shells..." her attention falls onto Issa's bare feet. "You're brilliant." The little weyrwoman is crouching down and quickly removing her own footwear before padding over to the spot indicated on the floor. "I don't mind at all. Anything I can do to help serve?"
Issa pushes off of the edge of the couch, and turns in after Roa, crossing around behind the weyrwoman to take up the spot on the far side. "All set," she answers with a tiny shake of her head. "I wouldn't dare have the weyrwoman lift a finger." The greenrider grins across at Roa and sinks to the floor with one fluid movement, crossing her legs in a posture that's highly inappropriate for the company of a weyrwoman. "Sit, sit," she urges, waving her palm at the floor insistently. "I'm starving. What have you been doing at the Gather all day?"
The weyrwoman snorts softly and sinks down into a pool of grey and purple cloth before one of the plates. "I have been trying to listen. The Lords have all gathered together except, as far as I can tell, Odern. So. Something is stirring." There is a tiny smirk. "Dragonriders are not the only ones to plot over Nabol." Perhaps the double entendre of the word 'over' is intentional. "What's for dinner?"
"So I've heard," Issa comments, cryptically, eyebrows raising over a sneaking smile as she leans over to uncover the trays arranged on the rug. With little flourishes, she introduces the dishes as she reveals them. "A fabulous roast wherry," and she adopts an affected accent, "with delicately steamed vegetables and a light butter sauce." And on to the next tray. "And for accompaniment, um... bread," she finishes in anticlimactic fashion, chuckling as the adjectives fail her. "And then some spice cake for dessert. Yes," she says, separating from the food then, "I've heard mutterings. But all I know for sure is that Benden is there." Wonder where she got that idea. "Do you know anything about what, exactly, they're plotting?" she asks, done with the unveiling and picking up her plate to begin serving herself, a cue for Roa to do the same.
Plate is lifted and dinner is served. Wherry and vegetables and bread. The cake is left for later. "I suppose you would have heard," Roa muses. "How did the flight go, by the by? Everything worked out as you'd hoped?" The plate is lowered and a fork grabbed, though eating doesn't yet begin. "Tialith's been keeping an eye on the dragons coming and going. As far as I can tell...they're all here. At..." her head tips to the side, "...the behest of Benden?" It is a question for Issa. "Everyone but Nabol. So..."
Issa's smile widens, tucked away as she keeps her gaze on the wherry she's stabbing with her fork and dragging over to her plate. "Mostly," she responds as soon as she's reined in that impulsive response to Roa's question. "Mostly as I'd hoped, yes. Thanks." But she leaves the mystery of it intact and doesn't explain further. Something else catches her ear. "At the behest of Benden," she repeats, her gaze darting up to meet the goldrider's as she leans back, full plate balanced across her folded ankles. There's a pause, though, instead of an outflow of enlightening information. With a slight heft of her fork, she continues, peering down at her plate as she spears a chunk of wherry and a cubed tuber together onto the end of it. "I wish I could tell you I know more than you," she finally says, "but I don't." One corner of her mouth twists out of her pleasant smile, conveying her slight displeasure. "He's been rather close-mouthed about the whole thing." Mischief springs to her returning smile. "I'll probably just have to do a little investigating and see if I can find anything out on my own."
Dark brows quirk just slightly at the last, but then she notes, "Well, he is meeting privately with the Headmaster, so I can't say I'm overly surprised he's keeping quiet. It's a compliment to you, really. If not the most useful compliment in the world." A small bite of vegetable is speared and eaten as toes wiggle beneath her skirts. "And I'm afraid at this point, all I know is that a great many Lords have something to say to one another and have come to High Reaches Hold to do it. Do you suppose we could...well, there is another aspect of Nabol I was hoping to hear more about."
"He can spare me the compliments," Issa says through a quick laugh as she turns her fork on its side to separate a chunk of wherry into smaller halves. One of those halves is ferried up to the greenrider's mouth and she chews over it delicately as she listens, eyes idly drifting to watch the fire to her left. But her gaze is drawn back to Roa, newly probing, as a sentence is cut off from its ending. It's only her gaze, though, that probes, her words passing on as if she'd noticed nothing. "The fall," Issa guesses, covering her smile as she finishes swallowing her bite. Then she gives a tiny shrug. "Could've been a worse mess. Far worse," she hazards. "They flew well... we all did... considering the surprise for both sides. Well, /most/ of both sides." Issa lets her words lag briefly as she tears herself a hunk of bread and sets it gingerly at the edge of her plate. "R'vain flew with us," she says blandly, "I'm fairly certain he, at least, recognized them. I don't know. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to encourage our own rebel wings..." She trails off, tearing off a corner of her ragged slice of bread thoughtfully. "But we needed the extra fighters." And the little piece is popped into her mouth.
"I know he did," Roa notes softly, and with a faint frown. "I hadn't expected it. I hadn't, really, expected the Reaches to fly at all, but..." she exhales slowly. "The injuries seemed minimal. And only one rider lost. Do you know how many injuries on their end?" The plate is studied, but no more food is taken just yet. "D'ven recognized them as well. And Br'ce, I think. I'm not sure who else. Enough that word is going to travel rather quickly. Which is good, I suppose." The faint frown reappears. "I wish R'vain had stayed out of it, though."
Issa is eating, but half-heartedly. Occasionally, a small piece of food makes it to her mouth, but most of the time the food sits beneath her idle fork, growing less warm by the second. "They lost a brown," she says with a wince in her voice for the significance of that loss for the exiles. "That's all I know." The greenrider clears her throat and passes her gaze over to the forgotten wine bottle, condensation slipping down its chilled sides. Placing her plate temporarily on the floor, she leans over to retrieve it and the two wineglasses, offering one wordlessly to Roa. "I wish R'vain would stay out of a lot of things," she replies a trifle sourly. "I think if we lay low for a while, though, we'll escape notice. With all the attention on the exiles, it's likely that they'll be looking for a connection. I'll just have to refrain from asking for questionable maps for a little while." Her grin quirks again as she uncorks the bottle and pours out some wine into her glass, a pale white wine that Roa will find much sweeter than any of the others Issa will have offered in the past. She learns at least. The bottle is then tilted in the weyrwoman's direction, eyebrows raised questioningly.
At the news, a brown, Roa's brows draw sharply down and she bites down on her bottom lip. Her eyes lower and dart from left to right as her thoughts race, something flicking through her mind. "Who do you-" but the question is ended before it begins. "Ah, Faranth. That's only thirty left. Thirty one, if you count..." And eggs. The weyrwoman shakes her head slowly, accepting the wine to take a generous sip. Then her attention darts back up again. "Maps? She copied them already? You saw them?"
Issa nods slowly at the weyrwoman's reaction to the revelation, muttering a soft, "Thirty," over the rim of her glass before she sips quickly. Apparently, she doesn't count that unnamed thirty-first, the goldrider in voluntary exile. The bottle is set down next to the still-covered tray (which one would assume holds the promised spice cake), leaving it uncorked for easy access. "I was talking about the maps I had made. Of Nabol, Threadfall patterns. You know. The ones I told you about." A mild frown flickers into place above her curious stare. "What are you talking about?"
It only takes a single blink for understanding. "Of course you were," Roa murmurs. "I'm sorry, I just..." was stuck on that brown. "Miniyal showed me some maps she had the other day. A rider friend of hers had made them. They were, Issa, they were amazing. They noted every single attack, where they were caught, where they were dropped off in exile. She's going to make copies." A tiny smile, "for the records room. For others to see."
Issa is about to indulge in another bite when Roa makes clear exactly what maps she was talking about. The fork pauses and her mouth is frozen open for a moment by the information. Eventually, she takes the bite and gnaws on it silently as she stares pensively past Roa's left shoulder. "You know," she begins then, "that this is very bad timing for such a thing. Someone's going to notice, Roa." Behind pressed lips, she runs her tongue over her teeth. "There's only so much coincidence people are willing to allow these days. You're keeping it quiet?"
"I am, and so is she. This is something Miniyal has taken on herself and..." a small nod. "I know. You're right. But she has interests in them that have nothing to do with what's happened. I don't think I can convince her to stop, just now. I'm not certain I should try, and attempting to explain the reasons would be...well. A mess." Roa's eyes close and one hand comes up so that her fingers can massage the inner corners and pinch the bridge of her nose. "She plans to go to Harper. To read the locked files they have there. To copy them. But. If anyone can keep a secret, it would be Miniyal."
Issa allows herself a secretive smile as the subject turns to Miniyal's secrecy, and she offers a quiet, "I know." But then she falls silent again, mulling over what Roa's said as she nurses her wine, small sips interrupting what would otherwise be a simple blank stare at the fire. Slowly, her smile grows and she becomes more and more amused by the whole thing, slowly shaking her head as she turns back to look at Roa. "I'm glad it's you, mixed up in it, then. You have a measure of immunity I wouldn't have, if you're found out." There's something lurking in the way she gazes across at the weyrwoman, a darker suspicion that barely brushes the surface before being buried in the usual cheer again. With a burst of laughter, she says, "What I wouldn't do to get my hands on those hides, though. Shards, how is she planning on doing it?"
The weyrwoman's head tips to the side, unawares or unwilling to ask about that more closed look she's given. "I wish I -wasn't- tied up in it. I don't want any...shells. I need to start being more careful." Her eyes are still closed, so maybe she just missed that look entirely. "Well, I suspect she's going to have G'thon take her. The man testified in the trials. He wants to read records on them, I can't imagine anyone would say no. Once she reads them...well...she has her ways. They won't notice, but she'll have gained the means to copy them. Which she intends to do. And slip them into our records." -Pinch- that bridge of her nose. Her hand drops and eyes open slowly. "I didn't think it would start rolling so quickly."
Issa seems comforted that the situation is under control, and has returned to the steady eating of her dinner, though it's with a decidedly more preoccupied air. "Neither did I," she admits in between bites. "But it is. Where do we go from here, Roa? Nenuith will have clutched by now. There are people alerted to the fact that not everyone has forgotten about those left on the island." Though her glass isn't quite empty, Issa reaches for the bottle to replenish her wine. "Where do we go?" she repeats, quieter, almost to herself as her eyes go a bit glassy and she stares down at her drink.
Roa sets her fork down so she can fold her hands into her lap and simply stare at that uneaten food. She inhales and exhales slowly. "I am considering speaking to G'thon. Seeing what he might be interested in doing. He's..." a quirk of her lips, "going to become an Instructor at the Caucus." A small pause. Than then, "Ethics."
"G'thon?" The name is startled out of Issa, falling quietly in between Roa's words. Her eyes fly to Roa's face to puzzle out the origin of this name and how it relates to the conversation at hand. Then, "Mmm." And that's all. For a while anyway, as she deals with the small piece of steamed broccoli she's slipped into her mouth. "What do you think he can do?" There's a severe doubt there for the dragonless man's abilities, lying just below the surface of her casual words.
"He's going to have direct access to students. He's going to be teaching ethics. I think he can set people thinking, if he were so inclined. I don't doubt it's something he's already considered himself, but perhaps it might be worth letting on that he wouldn't have to do so alone." Roa tilts her hands, studying them silently for a moment. "Other than that, I think for now we listen to what people are saying. What they thought of Nabol. And, eventually, we push the eggs. What that means."
"Be careful with G'thon," Issa warns, shaking the empty tip of her fork at the goldrider. "He might be of some help, but... I don't know." The finish is weaker, resigned and she uses a crust of her bread to dip into the sauce left behind on her plate. "I can listen," she decides with a nod, grinning as she nibbles at the edge of that crust. "Do we know who is going to be in that class, yet?" she then asks, her mind already jumping ahead in their sequence to find more points of influence as the rest of the bread disappears into her mouth.
"I know," Roa says softly. "He...was one of the people that got me thinking about all of this. He did it intentionally. I think it's part of why Diya..." her lips press down and she sighs softly. "Anyhow. Class. Besides myself, I'm not sure. But I think there will be a large interest, if only because of the Instructor."
Diya. The name brings a pressing of Issa's own lips and she reaches for her glass, washing down that bite of bread with a large swig. "Mmm," she hums again, pondering. "And I assume Sefton gets to choose which of those will be put in the class? Or does G'thon have that say, you think?" All signs signify some degree of plotting going on inside that head of hers. Eyes are thinned, her mouth curves up again into a subtle smile, and her fingernails rap against the base of her wineglass, recently returned to its spot on the floor. "I think we could convince G'thon to, at least, put in a good word for anyone we particularly would like to see in the class."
"I expect there will be a bit of both. There seems to be a mutual respect there, so those Sefton recommends will be incorporated, but so will those G'thon chooses." Roa cants her head a little again as she considers. "What I'd really like to do is put something together for non-caucus folks. A study group or somesuch. A place to voice ideas. But, not now. It's too soon, now."
Issa's interest distracts her from the tuber and greens combination she's just bitten off of her fork, her mouth immobile as she turns an eyebrow up in response. Slowly but surely, she begins to chew, and Roa has to wait for that bite to disappear before anything is spoken. "Too soon," she agrees, and adds, "Too dangerous." Shaking her head, she takes her plate and removes it from her lap again, abandoning it on the floor though there's still a whole slice of wherry sitting there among the remains of her vegetables. "Even before Nabol." Then, she seems to reconsider, gaze wandering. Her knees are drawn up to her chest and she rocks back a bit. "Well. Maybe. If it's done right. Carefully. Did you have specific people in mind, for these non-caucus folks?" Pale blue eyes return with a glint as she quotes Roa's words back to her, grinning as strongly as ever.
"I know," Roa says softly as soon as Issa reiterates the 'too soon'. "I'm not as foolish as all that. But, offhand, I should think Essdara. Tavaly. T'zen. Kianda. Rysia, if she wanted. Miniyal. Anyone, really, who wanted to come. That would be the point. But, Dara and T'zen, all on their own, could turn a secret into common knowledge in under a day so...quieter times. It will have to wait for now, unless..." One brow lifts at that sudden gleam in Issa's eye.
Issa throws her arms around her knees and her gaze to the ceiling as Roa rattles off those few names, nodding her head slightly over each of them. "Unless it's not a secret," Issa finishes, tilting her chin back down just far enough to catch the goldrider in her sights. "Dinner with a few friends, after all, is nothing to hide." She shrugs, lifting one hand away to scoop up her wineglass. "It doesn't have to begin quite so formally as a study group. A good dinner debate never hurt anyone." She takes a small sip and mischief springs to her smile full force as she lowers her glass again. "Do you want some cake?"
"No...a good dinner debate never did..." Roa's eyes brighten just a bit. "Though I think..." then bright eyes are positively twinkling. "We never did do anything, you know. To celebrate my transfer." And then, with a belated glance at her barely-touched plate and then a playful smirk. "Cake would be lovely."
"A celebration," Issa says with an exaggerated nod as she unfolds herself, legs crossing again as she reaches across to the last, lidded tray. "I think that's exactly what we need. And many more celebrations to follow in its wake. With a whole host of ideas to exchange in the meantime." With a grin, she uncovers the tray, revealing two tinier plates laden with rather large wedges of spice cake. The tray is then offered to the weyrwoman first, Issa leaning across the top of the lukewarm remains of the rest of their little feast.
"But a quiet one," amends the goldrider as she selects a plate with cake. "Thank you. It didn't happen under very good circumstances, and it's in poor taste to flaunt it anyhow. But, I don't see why a few of my friends and I might not wish to quietly celebrate the fact that I'm staying here. A bit of food. A bit of alcohol. A bit of chatter..." The little plate of cake is set down and turned, turned, turned, though no food is touched. "And perhaps the idle idea of a routine meeting for dinner. To make sure, despite our different and busy lives, we remain in touch."
"It is, after all, going to be more difficult. To keep in touch. Now that you have more duties on top of all your Caucus work." It seems decided then, as Issa takes the piece of cake left to her and sets the tray down to one side, that she's completely in favor of this subtle next step. She retrieves her fork from the abandoned plate and clears it of clinging sauce by sticking it briefly in her mouth. "How is that going, by the way? Are your studies suffering at all?" she asks, sweeping her fork through the air in a broad gesture at the goldrider before it's stuck into the tip of the cake.
The motion of cleaning her fork is repeated with Roa's own, the bits of oil sucked free before tines are set to cake. A bite is cut off, chewed, and swallowed. "I don't know. So much has been going on...I'm paying less attention to them, but I'm still doing well. My other duties have been...not very much. Sinopa is, hmm, possessive of what she sees as hers. I am not being consulted on much of anything, let alone asked to help." Another bite gone. After she swallows, "I suppose I can't blame her."
"Mmm," Issa offers as commentary while she eats her cake. "Faranth help us all if that keeps up. Sinopa hardly knows a tithing inventory from a tea kettle. And I think that's only because she's had to color coordinate the latter." As dryly delivered as it is, the greenrider can't help but smile wider over that observation, dipping her chin to hide it somewhat as she crumbles off another piece of cake and balances it on top of her fork. But it remains balanced for a long moment, before ever moving from that spot just above the plate. Issa's lost temporarily in a stare at the corner of the wherry tray, smile settling into something more subdued. "Would you have done anything differently, Roa?" The question is a departure from the light chatter of before, carrying a much deeper connotation. But she softens it considerably with her casual tone, so that it falls into the conversation without too much disruption to their pleasant dinner environment. "If you knew things were going to turn out like this."
The cake is stared at and slowly consumed as Issa speaks. The comment about tea kettles earns a small snicker from the goldrider and almost has her snorting a bit of frosting. The smile lingers on her lips but fades at the final question. "I...there are so many 'like thises' that I'm not even sure which you mean. Nabol's fall? Igen? E'sere and Aivey? Being transferred? All of it?"
Issa considers over the taste of the cake, balancing her plate across one palm as she reaches for her wine to wash it down. After a strong sip, she says decidedly, "All of it," a challenge in her voice that tells she knows it will make the goldrider's answer more difficult.
"All of it," Roa repeats with a soft sigh. "I...no. I suppose I would change one or two things. All in all, though, I think I'd have done the same. It's hard to tell. To separate it out enough, because everything leads into somethng else. So, how can we know, if one thing didn't happen, if the next piece, something good, would still fall into place?" The fork is set down, the cake gone. "And you? Would you do it all the same?"
"True," Issa says, thoughtfully skeptical, before she slips another tiny corner of cake into her mouth. With such small bites, she has a teetering edge of her cake still remaining on her plate as Roa finished her own. She seems ready to say more, but manners dictate she wait until she's dealt with that bite of cake. And, in the end, it's that bite that trips her up, for it's while she chews that Roa poses that question she sought to avoid. Her eyes drop to her wineglass and she picks it up, a mild diversion. The answer to that question comes in the form of a simple nod, quick at first then slowing until she pauses completely to drink. Cake plate and wine glass find a spot on the floor near her dinner plate, then, though only the wineglass receives any more of her attention, her hand idly spinning it where it stands. "I fed it, Roa," she finally says, voice grown thin. "Helped E'sere. Talked about loyalty, about fighting back. Fighting back," she repeats breathily, as if she can't believe it herself. Who knew they would fight back with poison?
"That's the trouble with 'then', really. You never know what you should have. But I don't think...if E'sere is guilty, then I don't imagine there is anything you could have said, right or wrong, that would have changed anything." Roa shifts a bit to draw up her knees and rest her chin atop it. "Things got worse, before they got better, but if they hadn't, we might never have caught them."
"Yeah." It sounds wholly unconvinced, coming so quietly from Issa's mouth. She heaves a vocal sigh, then, and picks up her smile again. "We won't talk about the what ifs, then," she decides suddenly. "This is Gather time. We're supposed to be drinking and carousing, and all sorts of merry things." As if to demonstrate, she picks up her wineglass and downs the rest of what's left. The action though, rather than merry, seems to be bracing her against the thoughts that brought up the topic in the first place. "Oh, I went to see that Aivey, girl, actually," she informs the goldrider, tilting an empty glass in her direction. "Guards wanted me to see if it was really her. As if I saw her in the first place," Issa scoffs good naturedly. "Said the new weyrwoman had been down, too..." An eyebrow slowly arches as she leans back, using her arms to prop herself up.
"She was...I was down. I wanted to see her eyes. And, I suppose, to speak to her." Roa exhales softly. "Gathers," she groans, eyes closing. "Shells. Three. Days. Whatever happened to the good ole one night, there and gone gathers of yore?" A small pause before looping back around. "They were the right eyes. Could you tell anything by speaking to her? Besides the fact that she likes to dig her fingers into open wounds?"
Issa's grin gains a malicious tilt for a brief moment as she says, matter of factly, "I dug back." Then, with a shrug, she sighs again and the caustic curl of her lips fades into its more pleasant, normal curvature. "Tried to, at least. But it was the right voice as well. Really... creepy, even though I knew she's been confined now. Has she said anything about Yevide?" The name feels heavy on the lips even now, and Issa can't say it without a miniscule wince, a tensing of her mouth over its pronunciation.
"No." The word is really just a sigh. "And considering what she has bragged about doing, it makes me inclined to think she didn't play a part in that. I...according to J'cor, there is no evidence to suggest either she or E'sere did it. The Weyrleader seemsto think that circumstances imply they didn't."
Incredulous, Issa lets her eyebrows tell of her surprise, both rising as high as possible. "No? But..." But it was so convenient that way. So perfectly logical. So perfectly simple. Something that High Reaches has been lacking as of late. "But then... who?" The greenrider pushes off of her hands, leaning forward to place both elbows on her knees.
A slow headshake. "I have absolutely no idea," Roa says with a long, slow sigh. "Perhaps, when Morelenth is questioned we'll be given a clue. Or an unexpected confession." There is a dullness in her voice, however. A skepticism that things will be packaged so neatly.
Issa's gaze drifts upward, jumping over Roa's head as she considers the possibilities. But with a snapping motion, her eyes return to the goldrider. "Oh, who knows," is what she concludes, hastily and with a note of frustration. "Why can't we stay away from this stuff for more than two minutes?" she asks with a laugh, raising her palms and plopping her forehead down into both of them. Shoulders still rolling under her quiet amusement, she lifts her head again just far enough to catch sight of the goldrider. "We are so hopeless."
"I don't know. Because, I guess, there's not too many other folks to talk it over with." A small huff and then Roa notes, "but perhaps it's time to stop for the night. I did promise to meet someone at the Gather, and I'm already running late."
"At least we're hopeless together," Issa comments, tilting her head so that it rests on only one palm, the other hand dropping away to fiddle with her empty wineglass again. "I didn't mean to make you late. Go. You're too busy to be dawdling with greenriders now," she says with a teasing grin to accompany it. "I'll drink myself merry in your honor." And with that, she picks up the bottle of wine and begins to pour herself another glass. It's already chilled, after all.
"Hopeless together, I am finding, is much nicer than hopeless alone." Roa is pushing up into a stand, smoothing the skirt of her gown, but at that rib about greenriders, the weyrwoman only wrinkles up her nose and sticks out her tongue. Nyah. But it dissolves into a grin as hateful shoes are gathered up and, still dangling from her fingers, the little goldrider breaks into a light jog for the ledge and the queen waiting there.
and then makes another appearance at the Gather. Aida is there, but so is D'ven. This ends up being a good thing.
On the third day, Roa is one of the many who witness some very big news.
And that's how it all went down.
Many thanks to Miniyal, Aida, and Reyce for posting the logs I have linked here.