Boys and Islands
Location: Issa and Oshisyth's Weyr
Time: Late Afternoon on Day 17, Month 8, Turn 2
Players: Issa, Roa, Oshisyth
Scene: In which Roa learns Issa knows what she knows, and Issa learns some other things.
The world has changed only a few days ago, but life in this cozy High Reaches weyr goes on just the same as it did before the Lord of Nabol was unseated for his nephew. The odor of dragon oil laced with a more pungent sweet spiciness hangs heavily in the air, and the sparking sheen on Oshisyth's already vivid hide gives further evidence of the recent chore. For now, Issa busies herself with another task, shears flying over new leather, cutting it into strips for riding straps. There are a few exceptions to the normalcy of the image, however. The strained distraction on Issa's face, for one-- she sits on the floor in a cove created by her coiled dragon, head bent down to her work though her mind is clearly elsewhere. And there's also that pile of stuff near the ledge, not only four unopened cases of beer, but other sundry items. A pair of boots and their socks. A man's shirt, balled up and forgotten. A misplaced book. They all sit in a haphazard pile just inside the entrance to the right, thoroughly ignored by the owner of the weyr.
It's the same old tune. A rush of wings, a flash of gold, and then Roa is once again standing on Oshisyth's ledge and peering about for her rider. She is spotted within soon enough, and the other details are absorbed as well. The distraction. The pile of clothes and beer and boots. The dragon curled around her rider. Roa moves to the space between ledge and weyr, one hand resting on the stone. "Hey," is all she says by way of introduction.
Not even the rustling of such large wings can separate Issa from her work at the moment, though Oshisyth raises her head from where it's curled toward her rider to greet the queen with a fluted two-tone utterance. It takes Roa's voice to stir Issa's eyes, the last snip with her shears made before she lifts them to the weyrwoman's face. "Hi," she says in return, surprise clear in her voice, caught in the unsteady blinking of her eyes. "Roa," she adds then, more pleased, switching on her smile. Those blinking eyes pointedly steer clear of the pile of things just down the wall from the goldrider and remain riveted in place. "Come in, join me. I'm just... keeping busy." The perfectly good set of straps draped across the corner of Oshisyth's vacant corner (making the new set fairly superfluous) emphasizes her comment.
"Looks that way," Roa agrees amiably as she pads inside. Tialith wings away to find a larger perch while her rider walks the distance between the entry and Issa. She crouches down and then settles into a sit, knees raised, arms wrapped loosely around her knees. "Afternoon, Oshisyth," she greets the green with a small smile. And then, to Issa, "Some news, eh? Worth sharing, I'd think."
"Some. News." Issa separates out each word so that each one stands alone under its own heavy emphasis. Oshisyth offers a whistling whuff for the weyrwoman, then flops her head restlessly back down to the cool stone, again completing the semicircle of her body, but now with the addition of a Roa in the middle. Issa reaches out and takes one of the thick strips of leather, flipping it across the width of her crossed legs. "Didn't think the Lords would dare..." Instead of delving further into their daring actions, however, she substitutes a small shrug. "But they did. Nabol will get back on its feet, start sending tithes again..." Another strip of leather is retrieved from where it fell after the cutting and set atop the first. "Finally getting back to normal." If there's some bitterness lurking there, she masks it with a mundane attention to the particular alignment of the leather.
"Unexpected. But good, I think. I wouldn't think they'd have dared. I'm glad they did. Benden has some gall to want to pull such a stunt. It changes things." Roa's hand lifts to rest lightly on the green's muzzle, fingers distractedly massaging her electrically verdant nose. She glances once to that pile of beer and clothing before falling quiet for a long moment. Finally she says softly, "I won't ask. But, I'm happy to listen if you'd like to talk."
The mention of Benden wins the goldrider a flick of a glance, but nothing more. No, Issa's engrossed in her work. So much so that her dragon has to seek her caresses from other sources. Oshisyth, ever the glutton for contact, pushes her nose further under Roa's hand, inching the massaging fingers toward an eyeridge before she settles back into stillness, singly lidded eyes watching the bowl past the ledge. Issa has her attention torn from those straps in the making, however, by Roa's out of the blue comment. Her face rises, surprise showing for the second time that night, before she can follow the implication to the pile of someone else's belongings. "Oh." It's a simple sound, but all that she can manage, the frown that flickers into place swiftly disappearing once she's turned back to look at Roa. "We had a fight," she says, newly quiet. "And, well... you know Reyce."
Fingers are obliging to Oshisyth's request and Roa scoots a bit closer to that green wedge of a head so her hand can seek and scritch at the requested eyeridge. At Issa's explanation, Roa winces faintly in sympathy. "Reyce doesn't strike me as one to apologize. Or to back up once he starts down a path, even if he'd like to. Especially if it's self-destructive." She tips her head a little to the side. "Think it can be mended?"
Oshisyth lets out a grunt of appreciation, drawing out the creaking noise, her breath rushing out behind the weyrwoman. As the dragon's sound fades, a human groan takes its place. The force of that initial reaction slumps Issa back against her green's belly without a moment's concern for the slickness of the oil. "I don't know," she says, turning her eyes down to the leather. She no longer works at it, though. In fact, she undoes her efforts, skewing that carefully placed alignment with an idle nudging of her thumb. "It was... harsh. About his family, and Nabol. G'thon." Her head wobbles against Oshisyth as she shakes it slowly, letting her eyes return to Roa as she enumerates their list of grievances. "It was just so... random. And he was drunk," she concedes, with a bitter tone. "I've gone over and over it in my head, and I just can't... I don't know." She finishes back where she began, staring at the straps that the conversation has thrown into limbo for the moment.
Roa's fingers work slowly and idly over Oshisyth's eyeridge as she listens quietly. Her brows lift just a bit as G'thon is added to the mix, but there's no pressing. "I can't say as I know Reyce very well. Truthfully, I can't say as anybody does. I expect you do, better than most. But he...I don't know. There's so much more there than what he's showing. Maybe it wasn't about that particular night. Maybe it was something else, and being drunk just made it all come apart."
"Yeah." The word is drawn out thoughtfully, stretched breathily across Issa’s tongue as she finishes her contemplation of the soon-to-be straps and lifts her eyes to blankly take in her dragon and the caress being dealt. Oshisyth's eyes swirl slowly from blue to green and back again underneath that inner lid and she lets out another clipped grunt of appreciation. "There's got to be something," she says, her gaze tracking up the weyrwoman's arm to her face. "But it's not as if he'll tell me, even if we did patch it. He's not the most talkative man I've been with." To this there's a thread of dry humor, the understatement twisted under a wry smile. "You'll probably get a chance to know him better, though," she comments then, raising her own eyebrows, an unconscious mimic of Roa's earlier expression. "He's going to be in G'thon's class."
The greenrider's description of Reyce calls for a hitched little half-smile to Roa's lips. "I have some small experience with non-talkative men," she admits with a chuckle. "My own experience has found that stepping back and waiting sometimes works. But, Reyce is a bit different than--," Roa looks over at her fingers on dragonhide, "others I've met," the sentence finishes quietly. Then she's looking at Issa with a small nod. "Mmm. I know. The Headmaster mentioned it. I think he's just itching for the room to be a firework waiting to get lit."
Issa's own tiny smile makes an appearance, subtly curving into mischief, marked by the idly curious, "Others..." But it's quiet, easily lost under the weyrwoman's mention of the Headmaster, which pulls Issa's attention from more womanly topics. "Mmmhmm. Sounds like it." She deals out a quick glance to the work in her lap, then with a soft sigh puts it aside, devoting herself more completely to the conversation, leaning in with elbows braced on her knees. "And you think we'll be the ones to light it, still?"
"I'm not sure. If it plays out the way I want it to, nothing will get lit. Things will shift quietly for the most part, folks will come to their own conclusions. I just want them asking questions. I've no interest in forcing answers. This Weyr's not just mine to fiddle with. It's a home. Folks who live here...they choose. I'll nudge if they want an opinion, and if they choose what I believe, I'll make it happen." Roa's smile is rueful. "But. Things rarely play out the way I want."
Issa's palms meet and serve as a prop for her chin as she peers across at the weyrwoman. "You live here now, too, remember," she says with an extra twist of her smile. "It's your right to fiddle, weyrwoman." Such a convenient title to throw around, that, now that it ties her to High Reaches instead of Telgar. "You're lucky at least. You'll get to be in there. Nudging," she uses Roa's own word. "I have to be content with hearing it all secondhand." Oshisyth's eyes become suddenly brighter as that lowered lid is flung open and slowly she lifts her head away from Roa's hands to stare at something out in the bowl, frozen as she peers.
"It's my right to fiddle, traditionally," Roa amends with a tiny smirk. "But we'll just see. You might be able to do more than you think. I'll...fiddle with some ideas." But then Oshisyth is taken by something and Roa turns her head as well, brows arched. "Something amiss?"
"Hm?" Issa responds, lifting her eyebrows lazily. As if her response isn't evidence enough that there really isn't anything amiss, there's a rushing of wings just outside the ledge, a pair of young blues joined by another easily ten times their age cavorting dangerously close to the stone outcropping. Oshisyth's haunches shift like an eager puppy's, and she turns her head, forming an awning over Roa as she looks to her rider. "No, just restless, is all. Go play," she addresses her green, then, "go play." The second urging is hardly needed, for as Issa slips one hand from underneath her chin to slap against the oiled hide, Oshisyth is already rising, maneuvering herself carefully around the two as she slides out to the ledge. Returning to the conversation, then, as if nothing had happened, she says, casually, "Don't worry about it." A slight twinge furrows her brows fleetingly, shallowly, but she continues past it cheerfully. "I don't mind being behind the scenes, honestly."
Soft laughter. "She has..playmates? Suitors? A pity bronzes don't flirt that way. Tialith would prefer it, I think, to the things they try to do." Roa watches the green and the two blues depart before turning back to Issa. "So then," she says with a careful sigh, "do you think you're going to be..." brows twitch slightly, "sharing the news of Nabol with anybody else?"
And depart they do, the blues sweeping up to fling past the ledge again as Oshisyth drops off to join them, disappearing into the darkness that extends farther than the glowlight can reach. With a fond shake of her head, Issa watches the disappearing dragons and answers, "Just play. Dunks in the lake, jaunts around the spires, and the like. She'll be back in an hour and fall straight to sleep." Roa's careful sigh draws her back in, however, and she passes the weyrwoman a querying expression. The question doesn't do much to alleviate that quizzical gaze and the pause holds several blank blinks before she responds. "Oh," she says at last, "Yeah. Yeah, I'll have to... wait a few days." Distractedly, she looks to the ground in front of Roa, tilting her head in her hands as she calculates internally. "Until things have quieted."
Another one of those small nods. "Of course. I..." Roa shifts a little so her hand can dip into a pocket and pull out another one of those overly thick letter to Diya. This is handed over carefully. "If you, uhm, wouldn't mind? When you go?"
The rustling of that thick letter pulls Issa's gaze up, and she inspects it silently for a moment before reaching a hand out to take it. "You know," she says, turning the letter over to view the opposite side, then lifting her eyes to regard Roa with the same curious stare, "I inform Diya of all the new developments. No real need to put them in writing for her." Her smile quirks softly as she stares, head tilted against her left hand, the letter held suspended in the air over her lap by her right.
A small quirk of Roa's brow. "I'm sure you do," the weyrwoman says as lightly as she can, "but perhaps I just wish to tell her things that are unrelated to current affairs." A wink. Oh, this such a bemusing topic. "No peeking."
"Oh, I don't peek," Issa assures, "I'm a very discreet courier." As if to prove it, the letter is deposited carefully next to the long untouched leather and, with a gentle pat, left there. "I didn't know that you and Diya were close enough for the sharing of intimate details," Issa comments, oh-so-casually. The supporting prop of her hand drops away and the greenrider shifts her position, leaning back on both hands and tilting her chin down to catch Roa in her frank gaze. "That's all."
"Nosey today," she teases, but then Roa's smile drifts away to leave something quiet and solemn in its place. "Is there...something you wish to ask me, Issa?" The weyrwoman's hands settle in her lap and lace together. Squeeze.
Issa's smile surges at that tease, but she only shrugs at it, not bothering to negate. As Roa's question for questions cuts straight through Issa's roundabout manner, however, that smile settles into something a bit more wry. "Nothing in particular," she says, turning to look around the weyr, a motion just as casual as her tone, "Just wondering when you're going to tell me who you've actually been writing to." She shrugs again. "This courier business isn't without it's risks, after all." A hint, but a subtle one; she has a right to know what she's risking her neck for.
"You..." Roa rocks backwards a little, head tilting to the side, "you really haven't guessed? I..." The girl worries her lower lip as she follows Issa's lead and peers around the weyr. Stalling tactic. "Diya hasn't told you? About that?"
"Well, yes and no," Issa says, smile quieted now to no more than a subtly amused grin. "Oshisyth got it from Nenuith. Shared it with me." With Roa so busy glancing around the room, the greenrider takes the opportunity to turn her eyes back, squinting slightly to examine the reaction. "You don't have to worry. Discreet, remember? But really, it's not like anyone can fault /you/, Roa." It's a light stress that she puts there, slipping in beneath her soothing tone.
Those dark brows draw down sharply. "Nenuith? Why would Nenuith pay any mind to a couple of guards?" Roa muses distractedly. Her head shakes as Issa continues. "Can't be faulted? But I..." And then, snap, her expression changes. From confusion to quiet shock. "Oh," Roa says very very softly. "Oh I...I see." One hand balls into a fist, the heel of it pressing into the center of her forehead as she stares at the ground. "Oh. Shells."
Cue the confusion. "Guards?" Issa's brows drop suddenly into a sloping frown and she watches Roa's disjointed ramble silently, piecing together what pieces she has. "/You/ took them?" The stress on that word is stronger now, disbelieving. "To the..." Her mouth clamps down on that revelation, lips pressed tightly so that her exhaled breath has to huff through her nose, expressing her displeasure before she gives it voice with the simple utterance of her name. "Roa..."
There is more staring at the floor and a bit of sharp throat clearing. "Ah. Yeh." The words are bashful and mumbled. "Yeh. I...yeh." Roa's hands find each other again and squeeze one another until her knuckles turn white.
Another huffed breath, another uttering of her name. "Roa. Do you realize... What if they'd been guilty? If you'd been caught?" The greenrider pushes up off of her hands, bringing them around to drape between her thighs listlessly. Leaning heavily on her elbows, she pauses, head shaking, eyes drifting once again to the floor. After only a few seconds of glassy-eyed reverie, her brows lift and, ignoring anything Roa might have said in the interim, interrupts with, "Wait. How did you... You know how to get there." Her tone is just shy of being accusing, and her light blue eyes snap up, waiting intently for a response to a question that was never really posed.
"They weren't," Roa says bluntly. "Guilty. They weren't. I know those men and, please believe me, they weren't. Aren't. And I wasn't caught. So." Narrow shoulders rise and fall. "I don't know how to get there. I know an old drop point. I set them there, had Tialith send out a call, we fled. It's wasn't...look, of course it was stupid. I couldn't think of anything else to do."
"You can't... do things like that, Roa," Issa admonishes further, though her voice has drifted away from the strong initial reprimand and into a hushed, softened disapproval. "This is a very, very... delicate situation. How do you know that they won't slip? That they won't say something? I assume you /do/ intend to bring them back, if they’re proved innocent." She pins Roa with her gaze, letting one eyebrow arch away from its partner.
"Because I know them. I trust them. I couldn't...listen, if it had been Reyce, would you have sat still? These boys are the closest I have to family and I couldn't...I-know- it was stupid, Issa. I know it. And I'm sorry. But I don't regret it, I'd do it again, and yes. When their names are cleared, I'm bringing them home." This lecture has been given mostly to Roa's knuckles, but now she looks over at the greenrider. "I think I should probably be the one to do it. Tialith's safer from draconic pressure, and it's not something I'd ask you to do. This is my mess. I intend to clean it up, best I can. But. As I said. I don't know the way."
When Reyce's name is brought back up, Issa's jaw clenches behind her frustrated moue, the tension only releasing long enough for her to say, quietly bitter between Roa's words, "Can't risk everything for a handsome face." Her eyes seek to avoid the subject altogether and skip away as the goldrider continues her speech, skipping across the weyr. But it's a bad move that only puts those forgotten boots further into focus, so her gaze returns, held with a lingering frown on Roa's face. "And I do," she offers, unhelpfully, as Roa finishes. After a brief pause and an intently examining stare, she adds, "You're going to /have/ to be more cautious. Restrained." It's a bargaining chip that she wants, a promise to be gained for what she has to offer.
"Yeh," Roa agrees softly. "I know. This was an exception to the rule, and not the rule itself. So." That bottom lip is getting nibbled as she studies Issa in silence. Waiting.
The silence is maintained. It stretches out as Issa sits, still and thoughtful, staring not at Roa's face, but rather through it. "Okay," she finally announces, blinking steadily and removing her gaze to the floor before she focuses on the weyrwoman again. "Okay," she repeats, relenting, "I hope your trust in these two isn't misplaced. For your sake." And hers too, the tone says.
The mindtouch of the tiny green has a fluttery, breathless quality as she makes contact with the newest Reachian gold, images of blue tails and looming boulders cleared away by a hasty deference. Issa says to keep it secret. Oshisyth fairly whispers, innocently trustful despite her rider's uneasiness. A vivid image then springs up, flashing quickly into being. An image of a tropical island seen from on high, surrounded by churning waters, an emerald nestled in a sapphire sea. And she saves the best for last. It's warm, the green imparts with childish glee, Really, really warm. And then she's gone, back to the concern of dodging boulders.
Relief makes Roa's shoulders sag and her eyes close. She nods slowly. "It isn't," she promises. "You have my word. Thank you, Issa." Her eyes open and she peers at the other woman, her smile wry. "I suppose you've all my secrets now."
To Oshisyth: The gold's mindtouch is a heavy thing, like a thick blanket that drapes over the shared thoughts. The image and the information is accepted in patient silence and then a simple, Of course it shall be secret. If dragon thoughts could huff, Tialith's just might. But then, gently, Warm is very nice.
Issa reaches up with one hand, eyes unfocused as she scratches idly at one temple. Roa's thank you draws her eyes, but she doesn't rise from her leaning posture until she catches that wry smile and the words that follow. Issa straightens, pulling the tension of her shoulders out forcefully until its completely released and then lowering back down, teasing, "All of them? Surely a Caucus goldrider like yourself has been taught to keep a select few stashed up your sleeve for a rainy day." The greenrider bends her neck then, straining her head first one way and then the other as she casts a glance out to the still-empty ledge. Then, more softly, "Why keep your father secret, Roa?"
Roa blinks at that, brows furrowing. Her legs are drawn up, arms wrapping around them, chin lowering onto her knees. "Because I was told to," she says simply. "And because, well, what do you suppose would have happened? During that time? If folks had known he had blood on the mainland still."
Issa nods and offers an ambiguous, but thoughtful, "Mmm." After a brief pause, she continues, tossing a curl out of her eyes so that she can more clearly stare across at the goldrider. "But now?" she asks, eyes sweeping quickly about the space behind Roa to indicate this time, separated by over a decade from those events. "And with me?" As she gets closer to the core of the issue, her voice grows quieter. She offers a faint shrug, shifting to throw her weight back onto her outstretched hands again, gaze dipping away awkwardly before it hesitantly returns. Never mind that her trust had to be wrested from her only moments ago.
"Well, now I'm a goldrider with instigator sympathies who doesn't really want anyone to know. It seems a poor time to make the announcement." The tiny smile on Roa's lips is utterly forced. "Issa I was...I was -nine-. Can you understand what that could have been like? It's not something I can just shake off now. I'm related to...there are no excuses for what they did. None. I'm not proud of where I come from." She turns her head so her cheek can settle on her knees. "I didn't tell you, because I mostly don't tell anyone. Force of habit."
Issa offers a smile for the explanation, but, while it's not exactly forced like Roa's, it's tilted awry. "Don't worry--" The words seem to be prematurely clipped off, but she continues fluidly from there. "I'll survive," she teases gently. "And you know well enough your secret's safe with me." Pointedly, she reaches out with her right hand to give that packet of letters a swift set of pats, the force of them causing it to slide from its lean until it's flat on the floor.
"Thank you. I'm...that's a comfort. You know. Diya knows. G'thon. Jen and Ash. And that's everybody I'm aware of here. If possible, I'd like to keep it that way. So. Thank you." Roa tips her head down so the bottom half of her face is hidden in her skirted knees.
Freed from the shielding letters, the leather is taken up again, one end of the long strips set across Issa's knees again. For the thanks she offers no words this time, just a swift, single nod as she lines up those strips. "Jen and Ash," she parrots, drawing out Roa's familiarity with the names. "So which one is it?" she asks, eyes darting up to the goldrider with a mischievous grin beginning to quirk again at the corners of her mouth.
The quirk of a smile cannot quite be hidden from her own lips as Roa considers the question. But then, all she says, softly, is, "The quiet one. Obviously. Ashwin." She shakes her head, lifting it enough from her knees to do so. "Jensen and I are...we can talk. About anything. But..." she exhales softly. "I miss them. And you're the -first- I've told about Ashwin. So." Yet more secrets for Issa to keep.
"So," Issa echoes decisively, a curt nod paired with a smiling display of teeth showing that she understands. Stitching tools are reached for and the leather strips given a final straightening nudge before she leans over them again, taking up an abandoned chore. She begins to sew, but her hands move with a rhythm long-ingrained in her subconscious; her eyes remain unfocused. "I don't know, Roa. Having them far far away might just be easier," she says, the humor present undercut by a weary exasperation that simply can't be shaken.
"Considering they've been far far away for nearly two months now, I think I can rather disagree with that assessment. Please tell me you're not suggesting I leave them there." It is a struggle for Roa to keep the frown from her face.
"No, I was thinking more of an exchange," Issa replies lightly, eyes still downturned so that struggling frown is easily missed. "A sullen Bendenite for a couple of guards. Maybe the warm weather would do him good." The laugh is slow to begin, starting as a snorting exhalation and growing slowly from there until it shakes her hands away from her stitching. "Think of how well it would work," she says between chuckles, looking up. "Just a jaunt between whenever you get lonely. Sunsets on a beach. The ocean." The greenrider gives a final heady laugh and turns back to pulling through an interrupted stitch, saying, "If only I had a more convenient island."
"You.." Blink. Blink. Snrk. Roa lifts a hand to cover her eyes, but she's shaking her head and her shoulders are jerking up and down. It's only after she takes in a ragged gasp and lets it out again that the chortling becomes audible. "Issa...have to stop...doing that..." Roa sniffs, wiping at her eyes. "I say we commandeer our own island. Park all the boys on it. Best of both worlds. Attention when we wish, and none of the nonsense."
A stronger smile is lifted briefly from her work at Roa's response to her brilliant plan. "I hear the area around Ista is wonderful to visit," she offers, completely straight-faced now as she tugs to test the stitches she's just put in. "Shady. Soft sands. Completely abandoned. Ideal, really." Each item she pairs with a short tug, only beginning to stitch once she's proven its perfection. "Though separate islands, I think. Keep them in the dark about any multiple visits that may occur." Slyly Issa glances up, breaking the all-serious front with a girlish grin and a low, mischievous chuckle.
"Shady. Soft sand. Multiple..." Roa groans and shakes her head. "You're awful," she laughs. "Or, even crueler, you're starting to sound like an actual greenrider." There is a smirk and an eyeroll to accompany this rib. "This is much more fun than when you hated me," the goldrider muses idly. "I'll try not to let that happen again."
"I try to fulfill expectations," Issa says, tone serious, though there's an eyeroll of her own, partially hidden by the angle of her face. Her methodical stitching stills once again at that idle muse, and the greenrider pauses to blink over her work a few times before sliding her gaze up to the goldrider. "I never... /hated/ you," she corrects. Awkwardly, her eyes skip back down, her hands resuming their motion, though their pace is greatly slowed. "And you'd better," Issa threatens through an overblown humor, exaggerated tones, "Seeing as I know all about Ashwin." She stretches out that secret, pulling it through a playful grin that holds no malice. Those other secrets lie untouched, unmentioned.
A tiny snicker. "My deepest and darkest secret," she admits solemnly, "is that sometimes..." Roa leans forward, eyes twinkling, "...he -talks-." She sits up straighter, "Besides, I get to discover Reyce's boot size, so it's a fair trade." She looks over at the pile of things with a soft sigh. "They say when you leave something behind somewhere, it means you want to come back."
Issa chuckles, finishing a stitch and tossing away her curls to look up at Roa. Only to catch the goldrider watching that pile she's made out of Reyce's forgotten items. "Mmm," she hums noncommittally. "Or simply too drunk to remember." The comment is more amused than cynical, really, and she summons up an easy enough little smile to go with it, turning to busy her hands once again. Behind Roa, there's the sound of beating wings, talons striking stone, a rustling as Oshisyth folds weary wings and begins to slink sleepily back into the weyr again.
"We rarely get the gift of forgetting our mistakes," Roa muses softly. She's quiet as the green reappears, clearly as exhausted as predicted. "But if we did, I suppose we'd only repeat them. And remember, then."
Oshisyth slips by the pair where they sit on the floor and climbs straight up onto her couch, scrabbling to the raised edge and settling onto her back haunches. Perched there, she watches the riders calmly with wide eyes. A mildly thoughtful, "Yeah," is all that she responds with. Her expression shows more of a reaction, however, a frown returning briefly to darken her focused gaze, a glare directed down at those innocent straps. It passes quickly, however, and she continues on a more humorous track. "Well, I'll remember, if he doesn't. And toss that beer of his off the ledge." The crates get a jabbing gesture with that thick, sturdy needle of hers before it's stuck into another stitch. On her couch, Oshisyth yawns, her two lower lids lowering before she snaps them open again, jaw clacking shut as she returns to blinking down at her rider and the weyrwoman.
"Just chucking them off the ledge? How unoriginal. You could at least fill his boots with beer first." But the smile drifts away and Roa peers up at Oshisyth as the green clacks her jaw. "She doesn't want to sleep with me here," the weyrwoman notes softly. "I should go. Let her rest. Let you finish your straps in peace."
"I like the way you think, weyrwoman," Issa teases, sparing a smiling glance through a draping curl. That curl is then tossed away, the jerk of her head bringing her face up and away from her work again. She looks to her dragon, whose inner lids are already beginning to droop again, and her smile takes on a fond tilt. "She just wants to listen," she notes, without bothering to lower her voice, eyes twinkling as they meet her dragon's. "She's 'not tired' while you're here." The green gives a snorting huff and lowers from her perched stance, flattening against the stone though her eyes remain stubbornly wide and watchful. "I should be turning in soon, though. I think work is a lost cause tonight." And she looks down at the once-again stalled stitching without bothering to extend the effort and pick it up again.
"Then for your sake, if not your your dragon's, I'd best be on my way." Roa pushes herself up into a stand with a soft sigh. "It was, as ever, an event talking to you. I hope...it all settles the way you want it to. Sleep well, when you get there." Her blue eyes flick to the green. "And you, Oshisyth." Outside, wingbeats announce Tialith's return.
Oshisyth offers a chirrup that devolves into another yawn. Issa offers something much more coherent. "Thanks, Roa." Her right hand curls around the edge of the thick packet and she, too, moves to stand, knocking the would-be straps off onto the ground without a care for their placement. "I'll see your letters get into the right hands," she says with a smile that's begun to take on the same weariness of her dragon. "Have a good night."
"Thank you for that." Roa offers a small smile before heading out to the ledge, scrambling aboard her dragon, and winging away.
Time: Late Afternoon on Day 17, Month 8, Turn 2
Players: Issa, Roa, Oshisyth
Scene: In which Roa learns Issa knows what she knows, and Issa learns some other things.
The world has changed only a few days ago, but life in this cozy High Reaches weyr goes on just the same as it did before the Lord of Nabol was unseated for his nephew. The odor of dragon oil laced with a more pungent sweet spiciness hangs heavily in the air, and the sparking sheen on Oshisyth's already vivid hide gives further evidence of the recent chore. For now, Issa busies herself with another task, shears flying over new leather, cutting it into strips for riding straps. There are a few exceptions to the normalcy of the image, however. The strained distraction on Issa's face, for one-- she sits on the floor in a cove created by her coiled dragon, head bent down to her work though her mind is clearly elsewhere. And there's also that pile of stuff near the ledge, not only four unopened cases of beer, but other sundry items. A pair of boots and their socks. A man's shirt, balled up and forgotten. A misplaced book. They all sit in a haphazard pile just inside the entrance to the right, thoroughly ignored by the owner of the weyr.
It's the same old tune. A rush of wings, a flash of gold, and then Roa is once again standing on Oshisyth's ledge and peering about for her rider. She is spotted within soon enough, and the other details are absorbed as well. The distraction. The pile of clothes and beer and boots. The dragon curled around her rider. Roa moves to the space between ledge and weyr, one hand resting on the stone. "Hey," is all she says by way of introduction.
Not even the rustling of such large wings can separate Issa from her work at the moment, though Oshisyth raises her head from where it's curled toward her rider to greet the queen with a fluted two-tone utterance. It takes Roa's voice to stir Issa's eyes, the last snip with her shears made before she lifts them to the weyrwoman's face. "Hi," she says in return, surprise clear in her voice, caught in the unsteady blinking of her eyes. "Roa," she adds then, more pleased, switching on her smile. Those blinking eyes pointedly steer clear of the pile of things just down the wall from the goldrider and remain riveted in place. "Come in, join me. I'm just... keeping busy." The perfectly good set of straps draped across the corner of Oshisyth's vacant corner (making the new set fairly superfluous) emphasizes her comment.
"Looks that way," Roa agrees amiably as she pads inside. Tialith wings away to find a larger perch while her rider walks the distance between the entry and Issa. She crouches down and then settles into a sit, knees raised, arms wrapped loosely around her knees. "Afternoon, Oshisyth," she greets the green with a small smile. And then, to Issa, "Some news, eh? Worth sharing, I'd think."
"Some. News." Issa separates out each word so that each one stands alone under its own heavy emphasis. Oshisyth offers a whistling whuff for the weyrwoman, then flops her head restlessly back down to the cool stone, again completing the semicircle of her body, but now with the addition of a Roa in the middle. Issa reaches out and takes one of the thick strips of leather, flipping it across the width of her crossed legs. "Didn't think the Lords would dare..." Instead of delving further into their daring actions, however, she substitutes a small shrug. "But they did. Nabol will get back on its feet, start sending tithes again..." Another strip of leather is retrieved from where it fell after the cutting and set atop the first. "Finally getting back to normal." If there's some bitterness lurking there, she masks it with a mundane attention to the particular alignment of the leather.
"Unexpected. But good, I think. I wouldn't think they'd have dared. I'm glad they did. Benden has some gall to want to pull such a stunt. It changes things." Roa's hand lifts to rest lightly on the green's muzzle, fingers distractedly massaging her electrically verdant nose. She glances once to that pile of beer and clothing before falling quiet for a long moment. Finally she says softly, "I won't ask. But, I'm happy to listen if you'd like to talk."
The mention of Benden wins the goldrider a flick of a glance, but nothing more. No, Issa's engrossed in her work. So much so that her dragon has to seek her caresses from other sources. Oshisyth, ever the glutton for contact, pushes her nose further under Roa's hand, inching the massaging fingers toward an eyeridge before she settles back into stillness, singly lidded eyes watching the bowl past the ledge. Issa has her attention torn from those straps in the making, however, by Roa's out of the blue comment. Her face rises, surprise showing for the second time that night, before she can follow the implication to the pile of someone else's belongings. "Oh." It's a simple sound, but all that she can manage, the frown that flickers into place swiftly disappearing once she's turned back to look at Roa. "We had a fight," she says, newly quiet. "And, well... you know Reyce."
Fingers are obliging to Oshisyth's request and Roa scoots a bit closer to that green wedge of a head so her hand can seek and scritch at the requested eyeridge. At Issa's explanation, Roa winces faintly in sympathy. "Reyce doesn't strike me as one to apologize. Or to back up once he starts down a path, even if he'd like to. Especially if it's self-destructive." She tips her head a little to the side. "Think it can be mended?"
Oshisyth lets out a grunt of appreciation, drawing out the creaking noise, her breath rushing out behind the weyrwoman. As the dragon's sound fades, a human groan takes its place. The force of that initial reaction slumps Issa back against her green's belly without a moment's concern for the slickness of the oil. "I don't know," she says, turning her eyes down to the leather. She no longer works at it, though. In fact, she undoes her efforts, skewing that carefully placed alignment with an idle nudging of her thumb. "It was... harsh. About his family, and Nabol. G'thon." Her head wobbles against Oshisyth as she shakes it slowly, letting her eyes return to Roa as she enumerates their list of grievances. "It was just so... random. And he was drunk," she concedes, with a bitter tone. "I've gone over and over it in my head, and I just can't... I don't know." She finishes back where she began, staring at the straps that the conversation has thrown into limbo for the moment.
Roa's fingers work slowly and idly over Oshisyth's eyeridge as she listens quietly. Her brows lift just a bit as G'thon is added to the mix, but there's no pressing. "I can't say as I know Reyce very well. Truthfully, I can't say as anybody does. I expect you do, better than most. But he...I don't know. There's so much more there than what he's showing. Maybe it wasn't about that particular night. Maybe it was something else, and being drunk just made it all come apart."
"Yeah." The word is drawn out thoughtfully, stretched breathily across Issa’s tongue as she finishes her contemplation of the soon-to-be straps and lifts her eyes to blankly take in her dragon and the caress being dealt. Oshisyth's eyes swirl slowly from blue to green and back again underneath that inner lid and she lets out another clipped grunt of appreciation. "There's got to be something," she says, her gaze tracking up the weyrwoman's arm to her face. "But it's not as if he'll tell me, even if we did patch it. He's not the most talkative man I've been with." To this there's a thread of dry humor, the understatement twisted under a wry smile. "You'll probably get a chance to know him better, though," she comments then, raising her own eyebrows, an unconscious mimic of Roa's earlier expression. "He's going to be in G'thon's class."
The greenrider's description of Reyce calls for a hitched little half-smile to Roa's lips. "I have some small experience with non-talkative men," she admits with a chuckle. "My own experience has found that stepping back and waiting sometimes works. But, Reyce is a bit different than--," Roa looks over at her fingers on dragonhide, "others I've met," the sentence finishes quietly. Then she's looking at Issa with a small nod. "Mmm. I know. The Headmaster mentioned it. I think he's just itching for the room to be a firework waiting to get lit."
Issa's own tiny smile makes an appearance, subtly curving into mischief, marked by the idly curious, "Others..." But it's quiet, easily lost under the weyrwoman's mention of the Headmaster, which pulls Issa's attention from more womanly topics. "Mmmhmm. Sounds like it." She deals out a quick glance to the work in her lap, then with a soft sigh puts it aside, devoting herself more completely to the conversation, leaning in with elbows braced on her knees. "And you think we'll be the ones to light it, still?"
"I'm not sure. If it plays out the way I want it to, nothing will get lit. Things will shift quietly for the most part, folks will come to their own conclusions. I just want them asking questions. I've no interest in forcing answers. This Weyr's not just mine to fiddle with. It's a home. Folks who live here...they choose. I'll nudge if they want an opinion, and if they choose what I believe, I'll make it happen." Roa's smile is rueful. "But. Things rarely play out the way I want."
Issa's palms meet and serve as a prop for her chin as she peers across at the weyrwoman. "You live here now, too, remember," she says with an extra twist of her smile. "It's your right to fiddle, weyrwoman." Such a convenient title to throw around, that, now that it ties her to High Reaches instead of Telgar. "You're lucky at least. You'll get to be in there. Nudging," she uses Roa's own word. "I have to be content with hearing it all secondhand." Oshisyth's eyes become suddenly brighter as that lowered lid is flung open and slowly she lifts her head away from Roa's hands to stare at something out in the bowl, frozen as she peers.
"It's my right to fiddle, traditionally," Roa amends with a tiny smirk. "But we'll just see. You might be able to do more than you think. I'll...fiddle with some ideas." But then Oshisyth is taken by something and Roa turns her head as well, brows arched. "Something amiss?"
"Hm?" Issa responds, lifting her eyebrows lazily. As if her response isn't evidence enough that there really isn't anything amiss, there's a rushing of wings just outside the ledge, a pair of young blues joined by another easily ten times their age cavorting dangerously close to the stone outcropping. Oshisyth's haunches shift like an eager puppy's, and she turns her head, forming an awning over Roa as she looks to her rider. "No, just restless, is all. Go play," she addresses her green, then, "go play." The second urging is hardly needed, for as Issa slips one hand from underneath her chin to slap against the oiled hide, Oshisyth is already rising, maneuvering herself carefully around the two as she slides out to the ledge. Returning to the conversation, then, as if nothing had happened, she says, casually, "Don't worry about it." A slight twinge furrows her brows fleetingly, shallowly, but she continues past it cheerfully. "I don't mind being behind the scenes, honestly."
Soft laughter. "She has..playmates? Suitors? A pity bronzes don't flirt that way. Tialith would prefer it, I think, to the things they try to do." Roa watches the green and the two blues depart before turning back to Issa. "So then," she says with a careful sigh, "do you think you're going to be..." brows twitch slightly, "sharing the news of Nabol with anybody else?"
And depart they do, the blues sweeping up to fling past the ledge again as Oshisyth drops off to join them, disappearing into the darkness that extends farther than the glowlight can reach. With a fond shake of her head, Issa watches the disappearing dragons and answers, "Just play. Dunks in the lake, jaunts around the spires, and the like. She'll be back in an hour and fall straight to sleep." Roa's careful sigh draws her back in, however, and she passes the weyrwoman a querying expression. The question doesn't do much to alleviate that quizzical gaze and the pause holds several blank blinks before she responds. "Oh," she says at last, "Yeah. Yeah, I'll have to... wait a few days." Distractedly, she looks to the ground in front of Roa, tilting her head in her hands as she calculates internally. "Until things have quieted."
Another one of those small nods. "Of course. I..." Roa shifts a little so her hand can dip into a pocket and pull out another one of those overly thick letter to Diya. This is handed over carefully. "If you, uhm, wouldn't mind? When you go?"
The rustling of that thick letter pulls Issa's gaze up, and she inspects it silently for a moment before reaching a hand out to take it. "You know," she says, turning the letter over to view the opposite side, then lifting her eyes to regard Roa with the same curious stare, "I inform Diya of all the new developments. No real need to put them in writing for her." Her smile quirks softly as she stares, head tilted against her left hand, the letter held suspended in the air over her lap by her right.
A small quirk of Roa's brow. "I'm sure you do," the weyrwoman says as lightly as she can, "but perhaps I just wish to tell her things that are unrelated to current affairs." A wink. Oh, this such a bemusing topic. "No peeking."
"Oh, I don't peek," Issa assures, "I'm a very discreet courier." As if to prove it, the letter is deposited carefully next to the long untouched leather and, with a gentle pat, left there. "I didn't know that you and Diya were close enough for the sharing of intimate details," Issa comments, oh-so-casually. The supporting prop of her hand drops away and the greenrider shifts her position, leaning back on both hands and tilting her chin down to catch Roa in her frank gaze. "That's all."
"Nosey today," she teases, but then Roa's smile drifts away to leave something quiet and solemn in its place. "Is there...something you wish to ask me, Issa?" The weyrwoman's hands settle in her lap and lace together. Squeeze.
Issa's smile surges at that tease, but she only shrugs at it, not bothering to negate. As Roa's question for questions cuts straight through Issa's roundabout manner, however, that smile settles into something a bit more wry. "Nothing in particular," she says, turning to look around the weyr, a motion just as casual as her tone, "Just wondering when you're going to tell me who you've actually been writing to." She shrugs again. "This courier business isn't without it's risks, after all." A hint, but a subtle one; she has a right to know what she's risking her neck for.
"You..." Roa rocks backwards a little, head tilting to the side, "you really haven't guessed? I..." The girl worries her lower lip as she follows Issa's lead and peers around the weyr. Stalling tactic. "Diya hasn't told you? About that?"
"Well, yes and no," Issa says, smile quieted now to no more than a subtly amused grin. "Oshisyth got it from Nenuith. Shared it with me." With Roa so busy glancing around the room, the greenrider takes the opportunity to turn her eyes back, squinting slightly to examine the reaction. "You don't have to worry. Discreet, remember? But really, it's not like anyone can fault /you/, Roa." It's a light stress that she puts there, slipping in beneath her soothing tone.
Those dark brows draw down sharply. "Nenuith? Why would Nenuith pay any mind to a couple of guards?" Roa muses distractedly. Her head shakes as Issa continues. "Can't be faulted? But I..." And then, snap, her expression changes. From confusion to quiet shock. "Oh," Roa says very very softly. "Oh I...I see." One hand balls into a fist, the heel of it pressing into the center of her forehead as she stares at the ground. "Oh. Shells."
Cue the confusion. "Guards?" Issa's brows drop suddenly into a sloping frown and she watches Roa's disjointed ramble silently, piecing together what pieces she has. "/You/ took them?" The stress on that word is stronger now, disbelieving. "To the..." Her mouth clamps down on that revelation, lips pressed tightly so that her exhaled breath has to huff through her nose, expressing her displeasure before she gives it voice with the simple utterance of her name. "Roa..."
There is more staring at the floor and a bit of sharp throat clearing. "Ah. Yeh." The words are bashful and mumbled. "Yeh. I...yeh." Roa's hands find each other again and squeeze one another until her knuckles turn white.
Another huffed breath, another uttering of her name. "Roa. Do you realize... What if they'd been guilty? If you'd been caught?" The greenrider pushes up off of her hands, bringing them around to drape between her thighs listlessly. Leaning heavily on her elbows, she pauses, head shaking, eyes drifting once again to the floor. After only a few seconds of glassy-eyed reverie, her brows lift and, ignoring anything Roa might have said in the interim, interrupts with, "Wait. How did you... You know how to get there." Her tone is just shy of being accusing, and her light blue eyes snap up, waiting intently for a response to a question that was never really posed.
"They weren't," Roa says bluntly. "Guilty. They weren't. I know those men and, please believe me, they weren't. Aren't. And I wasn't caught. So." Narrow shoulders rise and fall. "I don't know how to get there. I know an old drop point. I set them there, had Tialith send out a call, we fled. It's wasn't...look, of course it was stupid. I couldn't think of anything else to do."
"You can't... do things like that, Roa," Issa admonishes further, though her voice has drifted away from the strong initial reprimand and into a hushed, softened disapproval. "This is a very, very... delicate situation. How do you know that they won't slip? That they won't say something? I assume you /do/ intend to bring them back, if they’re proved innocent." She pins Roa with her gaze, letting one eyebrow arch away from its partner.
"Because I know them. I trust them. I couldn't...listen, if it had been Reyce, would you have sat still? These boys are the closest I have to family and I couldn't...I-know- it was stupid, Issa. I know it. And I'm sorry. But I don't regret it, I'd do it again, and yes. When their names are cleared, I'm bringing them home." This lecture has been given mostly to Roa's knuckles, but now she looks over at the greenrider. "I think I should probably be the one to do it. Tialith's safer from draconic pressure, and it's not something I'd ask you to do. This is my mess. I intend to clean it up, best I can. But. As I said. I don't know the way."
When Reyce's name is brought back up, Issa's jaw clenches behind her frustrated moue, the tension only releasing long enough for her to say, quietly bitter between Roa's words, "Can't risk everything for a handsome face." Her eyes seek to avoid the subject altogether and skip away as the goldrider continues her speech, skipping across the weyr. But it's a bad move that only puts those forgotten boots further into focus, so her gaze returns, held with a lingering frown on Roa's face. "And I do," she offers, unhelpfully, as Roa finishes. After a brief pause and an intently examining stare, she adds, "You're going to /have/ to be more cautious. Restrained." It's a bargaining chip that she wants, a promise to be gained for what she has to offer.
"Yeh," Roa agrees softly. "I know. This was an exception to the rule, and not the rule itself. So." That bottom lip is getting nibbled as she studies Issa in silence. Waiting.
The silence is maintained. It stretches out as Issa sits, still and thoughtful, staring not at Roa's face, but rather through it. "Okay," she finally announces, blinking steadily and removing her gaze to the floor before she focuses on the weyrwoman again. "Okay," she repeats, relenting, "I hope your trust in these two isn't misplaced. For your sake." And hers too, the tone says.
The mindtouch of the tiny green has a fluttery, breathless quality as she makes contact with the newest Reachian gold, images of blue tails and looming boulders cleared away by a hasty deference. Issa says to keep it secret. Oshisyth fairly whispers, innocently trustful despite her rider's uneasiness. A vivid image then springs up, flashing quickly into being. An image of a tropical island seen from on high, surrounded by churning waters, an emerald nestled in a sapphire sea. And she saves the best for last. It's warm, the green imparts with childish glee, Really, really warm. And then she's gone, back to the concern of dodging boulders.
Relief makes Roa's shoulders sag and her eyes close. She nods slowly. "It isn't," she promises. "You have my word. Thank you, Issa." Her eyes open and she peers at the other woman, her smile wry. "I suppose you've all my secrets now."
To Oshisyth: The gold's mindtouch is a heavy thing, like a thick blanket that drapes over the shared thoughts. The image and the information is accepted in patient silence and then a simple, Of course it shall be secret. If dragon thoughts could huff, Tialith's just might. But then, gently, Warm is very nice.
Issa reaches up with one hand, eyes unfocused as she scratches idly at one temple. Roa's thank you draws her eyes, but she doesn't rise from her leaning posture until she catches that wry smile and the words that follow. Issa straightens, pulling the tension of her shoulders out forcefully until its completely released and then lowering back down, teasing, "All of them? Surely a Caucus goldrider like yourself has been taught to keep a select few stashed up your sleeve for a rainy day." The greenrider bends her neck then, straining her head first one way and then the other as she casts a glance out to the still-empty ledge. Then, more softly, "Why keep your father secret, Roa?"
Roa blinks at that, brows furrowing. Her legs are drawn up, arms wrapping around them, chin lowering onto her knees. "Because I was told to," she says simply. "And because, well, what do you suppose would have happened? During that time? If folks had known he had blood on the mainland still."
Issa nods and offers an ambiguous, but thoughtful, "Mmm." After a brief pause, she continues, tossing a curl out of her eyes so that she can more clearly stare across at the goldrider. "But now?" she asks, eyes sweeping quickly about the space behind Roa to indicate this time, separated by over a decade from those events. "And with me?" As she gets closer to the core of the issue, her voice grows quieter. She offers a faint shrug, shifting to throw her weight back onto her outstretched hands again, gaze dipping away awkwardly before it hesitantly returns. Never mind that her trust had to be wrested from her only moments ago.
"Well, now I'm a goldrider with instigator sympathies who doesn't really want anyone to know. It seems a poor time to make the announcement." The tiny smile on Roa's lips is utterly forced. "Issa I was...I was -nine-. Can you understand what that could have been like? It's not something I can just shake off now. I'm related to...there are no excuses for what they did. None. I'm not proud of where I come from." She turns her head so her cheek can settle on her knees. "I didn't tell you, because I mostly don't tell anyone. Force of habit."
Issa offers a smile for the explanation, but, while it's not exactly forced like Roa's, it's tilted awry. "Don't worry--" The words seem to be prematurely clipped off, but she continues fluidly from there. "I'll survive," she teases gently. "And you know well enough your secret's safe with me." Pointedly, she reaches out with her right hand to give that packet of letters a swift set of pats, the force of them causing it to slide from its lean until it's flat on the floor.
"Thank you. I'm...that's a comfort. You know. Diya knows. G'thon. Jen and Ash. And that's everybody I'm aware of here. If possible, I'd like to keep it that way. So. Thank you." Roa tips her head down so the bottom half of her face is hidden in her skirted knees.
Freed from the shielding letters, the leather is taken up again, one end of the long strips set across Issa's knees again. For the thanks she offers no words this time, just a swift, single nod as she lines up those strips. "Jen and Ash," she parrots, drawing out Roa's familiarity with the names. "So which one is it?" she asks, eyes darting up to the goldrider with a mischievous grin beginning to quirk again at the corners of her mouth.
The quirk of a smile cannot quite be hidden from her own lips as Roa considers the question. But then, all she says, softly, is, "The quiet one. Obviously. Ashwin." She shakes her head, lifting it enough from her knees to do so. "Jensen and I are...we can talk. About anything. But..." she exhales softly. "I miss them. And you're the -first- I've told about Ashwin. So." Yet more secrets for Issa to keep.
"So," Issa echoes decisively, a curt nod paired with a smiling display of teeth showing that she understands. Stitching tools are reached for and the leather strips given a final straightening nudge before she leans over them again, taking up an abandoned chore. She begins to sew, but her hands move with a rhythm long-ingrained in her subconscious; her eyes remain unfocused. "I don't know, Roa. Having them far far away might just be easier," she says, the humor present undercut by a weary exasperation that simply can't be shaken.
"Considering they've been far far away for nearly two months now, I think I can rather disagree with that assessment. Please tell me you're not suggesting I leave them there." It is a struggle for Roa to keep the frown from her face.
"No, I was thinking more of an exchange," Issa replies lightly, eyes still downturned so that struggling frown is easily missed. "A sullen Bendenite for a couple of guards. Maybe the warm weather would do him good." The laugh is slow to begin, starting as a snorting exhalation and growing slowly from there until it shakes her hands away from her stitching. "Think of how well it would work," she says between chuckles, looking up. "Just a jaunt between whenever you get lonely. Sunsets on a beach. The ocean." The greenrider gives a final heady laugh and turns back to pulling through an interrupted stitch, saying, "If only I had a more convenient island."
"You.." Blink. Blink. Snrk. Roa lifts a hand to cover her eyes, but she's shaking her head and her shoulders are jerking up and down. It's only after she takes in a ragged gasp and lets it out again that the chortling becomes audible. "Issa...have to stop...doing that..." Roa sniffs, wiping at her eyes. "I say we commandeer our own island. Park all the boys on it. Best of both worlds. Attention when we wish, and none of the nonsense."
A stronger smile is lifted briefly from her work at Roa's response to her brilliant plan. "I hear the area around Ista is wonderful to visit," she offers, completely straight-faced now as she tugs to test the stitches she's just put in. "Shady. Soft sands. Completely abandoned. Ideal, really." Each item she pairs with a short tug, only beginning to stitch once she's proven its perfection. "Though separate islands, I think. Keep them in the dark about any multiple visits that may occur." Slyly Issa glances up, breaking the all-serious front with a girlish grin and a low, mischievous chuckle.
"Shady. Soft sand. Multiple..." Roa groans and shakes her head. "You're awful," she laughs. "Or, even crueler, you're starting to sound like an actual greenrider." There is a smirk and an eyeroll to accompany this rib. "This is much more fun than when you hated me," the goldrider muses idly. "I'll try not to let that happen again."
"I try to fulfill expectations," Issa says, tone serious, though there's an eyeroll of her own, partially hidden by the angle of her face. Her methodical stitching stills once again at that idle muse, and the greenrider pauses to blink over her work a few times before sliding her gaze up to the goldrider. "I never... /hated/ you," she corrects. Awkwardly, her eyes skip back down, her hands resuming their motion, though their pace is greatly slowed. "And you'd better," Issa threatens through an overblown humor, exaggerated tones, "Seeing as I know all about Ashwin." She stretches out that secret, pulling it through a playful grin that holds no malice. Those other secrets lie untouched, unmentioned.
A tiny snicker. "My deepest and darkest secret," she admits solemnly, "is that sometimes..." Roa leans forward, eyes twinkling, "...he -talks-." She sits up straighter, "Besides, I get to discover Reyce's boot size, so it's a fair trade." She looks over at the pile of things with a soft sigh. "They say when you leave something behind somewhere, it means you want to come back."
Issa chuckles, finishing a stitch and tossing away her curls to look up at Roa. Only to catch the goldrider watching that pile she's made out of Reyce's forgotten items. "Mmm," she hums noncommittally. "Or simply too drunk to remember." The comment is more amused than cynical, really, and she summons up an easy enough little smile to go with it, turning to busy her hands once again. Behind Roa, there's the sound of beating wings, talons striking stone, a rustling as Oshisyth folds weary wings and begins to slink sleepily back into the weyr again.
"We rarely get the gift of forgetting our mistakes," Roa muses softly. She's quiet as the green reappears, clearly as exhausted as predicted. "But if we did, I suppose we'd only repeat them. And remember, then."
Oshisyth slips by the pair where they sit on the floor and climbs straight up onto her couch, scrabbling to the raised edge and settling onto her back haunches. Perched there, she watches the riders calmly with wide eyes. A mildly thoughtful, "Yeah," is all that she responds with. Her expression shows more of a reaction, however, a frown returning briefly to darken her focused gaze, a glare directed down at those innocent straps. It passes quickly, however, and she continues on a more humorous track. "Well, I'll remember, if he doesn't. And toss that beer of his off the ledge." The crates get a jabbing gesture with that thick, sturdy needle of hers before it's stuck into another stitch. On her couch, Oshisyth yawns, her two lower lids lowering before she snaps them open again, jaw clacking shut as she returns to blinking down at her rider and the weyrwoman.
"Just chucking them off the ledge? How unoriginal. You could at least fill his boots with beer first." But the smile drifts away and Roa peers up at Oshisyth as the green clacks her jaw. "She doesn't want to sleep with me here," the weyrwoman notes softly. "I should go. Let her rest. Let you finish your straps in peace."
"I like the way you think, weyrwoman," Issa teases, sparing a smiling glance through a draping curl. That curl is then tossed away, the jerk of her head bringing her face up and away from her work again. She looks to her dragon, whose inner lids are already beginning to droop again, and her smile takes on a fond tilt. "She just wants to listen," she notes, without bothering to lower her voice, eyes twinkling as they meet her dragon's. "She's 'not tired' while you're here." The green gives a snorting huff and lowers from her perched stance, flattening against the stone though her eyes remain stubbornly wide and watchful. "I should be turning in soon, though. I think work is a lost cause tonight." And she looks down at the once-again stalled stitching without bothering to extend the effort and pick it up again.
"Then for your sake, if not your your dragon's, I'd best be on my way." Roa pushes herself up into a stand with a soft sigh. "It was, as ever, an event talking to you. I hope...it all settles the way you want it to. Sleep well, when you get there." Her blue eyes flick to the green. "And you, Oshisyth." Outside, wingbeats announce Tialith's return.
Oshisyth offers a chirrup that devolves into another yawn. Issa offers something much more coherent. "Thanks, Roa." Her right hand curls around the edge of the thick packet and she, too, moves to stand, knocking the would-be straps off onto the ground without a care for their placement. "I'll see your letters get into the right hands," she says with a smile that's begun to take on the same weariness of her dragon. "Have a good night."
"Thank you for that." Roa offers a small smile before heading out to the ledge, scrambling aboard her dragon, and winging away.