Slim Pickin's
Location: Classroom
Time: Late morning on Day 8, Month 9, Turn 2
Players: Roa and Ginella
Scene: Roa and Ginny discuss leadership, transfers, and various other things. Roa maybe realizes something.
Classroom
One of several classrooms used by the Weyr, this is the largest and most versatile. The walls adjacent to the bowl are lined with sandtables and high shelves that neatly store a variety of writing implements. Rather than the typical arrangement of student desks and benches lined up to face the front of the room, that furniture has been arranged in a broad semi-circle surrounding a bare work area. A single desk occupies the corner nearest the door exiting into the records room, providing a place for the current instructor to store their materials.
Class is over and the students are packing up and making their way for the door. The instructor slips out first and a small murmur of chatter begins as people begin to relax, discuss this and that and decide who will eat lunch with who today. Seated somewhere in the middle is Roa. She is a little slower in leaving, quill still rushing over a hide with quiet determination. Being recently transferred and with her rumor history the way it is, more than one person spares the little weyrwoman a thoughtful glance as they depart, but she seems too busy to notice.
Ginella is similarly slow to pack up, hurrying to finish a few notes before gathering up her things. She looks up, and spots Roa, slowing in her movements even further. Oh look, she forgot to make a note. This holds her up until pretty much all the other students have exited but her and the Reaches goldrider. Bag in hand, Ginella drifts towards the other's desk. "That bit at the end was confusing, huh?" she announces her presence to the weyrwoman, waiting a minute before asking: "How're things going?"
Writing...writing...with a soft sigh Roa halts and tucks her pen away about the same time the other goldrider begins her approach. She looks up as Ginella arrives, offering a small smile. "It was. Even moreso because I'd sort of stopped paying attention," the other girl murmurs guiltily. "Things are going all right, thanks. And with you, Ginella?"
Ginella smiles back at the guilty murmur, shrugging: "We all blank out sometimes, I'm sure. That /voice/, how could you not?" She pulls a bit of a face, then shrugs again at the question, "I'm well enough. Lots to do, as usual, but nothing compared to the load you must have. I'm surprised you're keeping with the classes," she admits, "Though I suppose you might not have -any- time for them, soon."
The hide with all the scibbling is blown on several times to dry it and then carefully rolled. "He is a bit monotonous, isn't he," Roa muses with a tiny smile. "I've been, well, it's certainly been harder. But so far, it's been doable. There are three of us, and the work is fairly well distributed." She bends down to pick up her bag and set it on her lap. As Ginella gets that last remark in, Roa glances up with an arched eyebrow. "Getting in on the betting pool, weyrwoman?" she teases with a little laugh.
"Little bit," Ginella admits, casting a surreptitious glance around to make sure said Instructor is not within earshot. "I'm sure," she nods along about things being harder, shrugging: "Still, just juggling both can't be easy. I do very little for Benden from here, and it's still difficult." At the tease, she laughs lightly, and shakes her head: "No, not me. I've no doubt Tiv has a bet down somewhere, though, so if you've any inside information about who'll rise and who'll win..." She teases back, smiling.
Roa smirks. "Tiv would, wouldn't he. Or, Faranth, I imagine D'ven is -running- the betting pool." She shakes her head, eyes rolling at the thought, or the betting, or the bronzerider in question. "I suppose since I'm inside of it, all my information would be considered so. But, alas for us both, Tialith doesn't seem to be willing to share that particular secret." Satchel strap draped over her shoulder, Roa begins to scoot out of her seat and stand. "What do you think of that new class? The one G'thon is teaching?"
Ginella arches a brow very faintly at the familiar way she mentions the brownrider, but moves on, shaking her head: "I don't think D'ven's running this one. Seems unfair, don't you think? When he's in the running himself? He could rig the whole thing, and just not fly at all, win bags of money. Wouldn't put such a thing past him at all, really." The goldrider removes her hand from the edge of the other's desk, shrugging at the question. "I'm not sure, yet. I think the Instructor is probably the most interesting thing so far."
The shorter of the two women is moving towards the door as she talks, but certainly at a slow enough pace that the invitation to walk with, if not said outright, is implied. "No, I wouldn't really put it past him, either." Roa dips her head into a nod for the answer regarding G'thon. "Oh, absolutely. Ethics. It's...when I first heard, I just thought it was a joke. Still, I'm going to take it, I think. I'm too curious about it not to."
"Not past him at all," Ginella agrees, falling into slow step next to Roa. "You think D'ven's in the running, then? I'm betting that's where T'ral has his money, loyalty and all that, you know." G'thon's class gets a pause before she nods. "I'd like to, as well. I'm afraid it seems like one of those classes that could easily get out of hand. I suppose we'll find out!"
Roa grins. "I suppose we will. It'll be nice to have the company. Reyce is taking it too, I hear. I'm not sure who else. Bailie, I'll bet. And I bet the Headmaster has Neiran take it." Walk...walk..."Is D'ven in the running? Well, I mean, they're all in the running, aren't they? But, I think he'll stay. I don't think he'll take Teraneth elsewhere when the time comes. Sometimes I wonder if he's got a bit more sense than he likes to let on."
"I wouldn't be surprised if it were a popular class," Ginella agrees, listening a little more sharply as they return to D'ven and is prospects. "I suppose they are, technically," she concedes, before falling silent again. When Roa seems done, she shrugs: "He might. What do you think will happen if he were to win? Another outsider?"
"I think the line between insider and outsider needs to stop being drawn. He's transferred. He's Reaches now. Shells, I'd like to just draw up a graph for everyone and point out the number of riders that are here who weren't born here. Transfers happen. It's time to grow up." Roa pauses at the door, eyes lowering briefly. "Sorry," she murmurs. "Sorry. I'm just...the argument seems absurd to me."
"You can't just eliminate the distinction, Roa, even if it might make things easier," Ginella replies, shaking her head, "He Impressed and was trained at Benden. It's not the same as just not being -born- at High Reaches. He's lived here for less than a Turn." She shakes her head again at the apology, clearly not offended in any way, just... not entirely in agreement. "I'm not saying the response to Yevide and J'cor was justified, far from it. But I understand why many people see recent transfers as outsiders and worry about them taking over. If nothing else, it's a matter of them not knowing a place."
"And I can understand riders feeling frustrated because those who might be in charge don't know the Weyr as well as they do. But is seems a wiser course of action to then assist those who haven't been trained here, rather than drawing a line in the sand and glaring from the other side. What I don't understand..." and now they have moved into the hallway and Roa adjusts the satchel strap on her shoulder, "is this idea that just because someone came from another Weyr and comes to power, they're out to destroy this place. I mean, this is their home now. Weyrs are autonomous. Are folks actually worried that if, to pick the example already noted, D'ven became weyrleader, he'd be doing so for the sake of Benden? What does that even mean?"
"I'm not advocating glaring," Ginella says, running a hand into her hair, "I'm just saying that there -is- a difference between transfers and native riders, and we shouldn't pretend that there isn't." Hair fixed, she drops her hand into her pocket as they head outside. "And I agree, the idea that their aim is to destroy is silly and, I hope, no longer as popular, since clearly J'cor has not tried to do that." The rest earns a bit of a shrug, and she shakes her head. "I don't know, exactly. I mean, it would mean he was M'arik's puppet, which in itself is not that silly a thing for people to suppose. What M'arik would then do with him and Reaches, I don't really know. If Benden and Reaches were closer together, I suppose they could screw with coverage areas and somehow redirect tithes, or something, but..." She shrugs. "I don't know. I think the problem isn't that so much as native riders resenting leadership positions being stolen away from them by newcomers."
"I didn't mean to imply that you advocated glaring." And then Roa pauses to smirk, because that was just peculiar to say. "It just seems to be the course of action chosen when people are discussing transferred riders. Us and Them. What side are you on. Certainly, there is a difference. In experience, in upbringing, but not in -sides-. There shouldn't be sides in a Weyr. Not like that." As they slip out of the hallway and into the bowl, making a leisurely path towards the Living Caverns and lunch. "I don't think the Weyr Council would stand for such tampering. Weyrs need and want their autonomy. As far as leadership being 'stolen' away..." Roa's shoulders lift and fall in a cavalier shrug, "the system of selecting new leaders makes no distinction between new arrivals and natives. Perhaps it would be wise if the residents began to follow suit."
"Well, in this case, my 'Us' is their 'Them'," Ginella points out, "And no, I suppose their shouldn't be sides. But different weyrs do things differently. Styles and customs may clash significantly. It's good to get ideas from different places, and have transfers between weyrs, but it can be jarring to have that introduced on a large-scale." She meanders along, shrugging, "I don't know... I think they wouldn't, except... Yevide and J'cor looked an awful lot like tampering, and I didn't hear of the Council doing anything about it. And it would be -nice- if the residents began to follow suit... but I can't see that changing overnight. And in the meantime..."
"In the meantime, neither Tialith or Citalth are giving any indication they're ready to rise. So, there's time for folks to get comfortable with the idea of another foreign Weyrleader." Roa sighs softly, "or foreign Weyrwoman, I suppose. But perhaps in the end Citalth will fly, a native will catch, and the debate will be purely academic."
"True," Ginella agrees, "I feel like this period to get used to the idea is good for people. That was part of the problem last time, was that it was so sudden. At least they already know now that you could be Weyrwoman. I don't think there will be as many problems if that should happen." She scratches at her eyebrow, and meanders for another minute before asking: "So why -are- you interested in D'ven?"
The littler weyrwoman pauses in their walking to consider, eyes looking upwards, head tipping to the side. "The short answer is because I think he's the best out of a somewhat sorry lot. Which is not meant to sound quite as awful as it does." Roa turns to peer over at Ginella. "The longer answer is that he has potential, he knows his own mind, and if he's faced with the job, he'll take it seriously and mean to muddle through as best he can. I wish he didn't look so strongly to T'ral however, no offense intended."
Ginella arches a brow. "I won't argue that there's not a huge selection, but is D'ven really the best?" She shakes her head a bit, "I mean, he is smarter than he plays, I know that, but he's also about as much of a gambler, drunk, and womanizer as he plays, not to mention that he lacks leadership experience. I can't imagine that's really what this weyr needs right now." She has paused also, and finally turns to look at Roa at the last, snorting faintly: "So do I. But he does, they all do. Where T'ral goes, they follow, and what they break, he fixes. If you drag D'ven into all of this here, you're not just dragging D'ven. You're dragging every Bendenite here, myself included, and where you drag me, you drag Benden Weyr. You understand that?"
Roa mmms softly, "A thing worth considering," she concedes by way of that last. Dragging in Benden. "He is, yes, a womanizer, a drinker, and a gambler. But he knows it, and he knows running a Weyr and living as indulgently as he does won't mix. I think he'd make the right choice, if it came down to it." She shakes her head slowly and sighs softly. "T'ral should have impressed bronze," she murmurs softly and then, with a bit of a glint to her eye, "You wouldn't choose D'ven. Who then? If it were your pick, which one would you choose?"
Ginella nods soberly as Roa seems to take her warning seriously, and moves past it. "I think he would, if it came down to it. He's a good man, or T'ral wouldn't be friends with him. They're a silly bunch of boys when they're together, but good men at heart." As for her beloved's dragon color, she just laughs, and shakes her head. "You think I would let him become Weyrleader here, if he had?" she jokes, shaking her head. "He ought to have some sort of leadership position, though," she says, more seriously, "And I don't just say that as his girl. He denies and denies his potential. Somebody ought to make him Wingsecond, or Assistant Weyrlingmaster, or something, force him to recognize it. He'd be good." She runs a hand into her hair, and then shrugs at the question. "I don't know, to be honest. What are the other choices? R'vain? Reaches' own, but a worse drunk than D'ven, and without the smooth talking. Ch'dais is an option, I suppose, though somehow not a very popular one, it seems... I guess I don't know who else there is, really. E'sere was everyone's great hope, or something." She shrugs, and shakes her head. "You're right, there aren't many options."
"Ch'dais, maybe," Roa agrees, "although he's so...it's all so personal with him. I don't know how he'd really manage a whole Weyr's worth of troubles. And I think he wants it even less than D'ven does. R'vain...well, you said it just about right. And D'thor is so puffed up on himself...well, he's the sort to pat a weyrwoman on her head and send her on her way without listening to a word she has to say. T'vas is too angry and too young. R'zel adores E'sere and he's seventeen. So. You can see the difficulties." Roa's lips quirk upwards. "Perhaps if T'ral had a legitimate leadership position, he'd be busy enough with it that the others might need to try a bit of independent thought." Toes, suddenly, are the things to study. "Could I...you mind if I ask you a personal question, Ginella?"
"I don't know Ch'dais at all," Ginella admits, "Just what I've heard of him about Fall and such. And I don't know... I imagine D'ven wants it very very little." She nods about the rest, ticking them off on her fingers and finally running the hand into her hair. "It's not a good state of affairs, I'll agree," she admits, before smirking faintly: "Maybe they would," she shrugs, "Or at least maybe he'd stop fathering them and acting inferior at the same time. It's infuriating. Plus, it will help him in M'arik's eyes. And he'd be good at it," she adds quickly, to cover the brief emergence of selfishness, "Very good." The sudden toe-gazing and the question brings an arch to the goldrider's brows, but she nods slowly: "Go ahead?"
It's the mention of M'arik that has Roa's gaze lifting suddenly and lighting on Ginella. "Never mind," she says softly. "You just answered it." She looks out over the bowl. "I don't particularly want Benden dragged along, and I don't particularly want T'ral quietly running the Weyr through D'ven. Not because of Tiv. Just...it's the principle of the thing. It sits funny. I just don't like it. But. He's still the one I'd choose, if it was me and I was doing the choosing. It might not be. And it's up to Tialith. The best laid plans, you know."
Ginella blinks, then nods slowly: "Do I expect him to transfer back to Benden when I go?" she guesses, then nods again: "That's the plan, yes. Unless a lot changes in the next couple turns, I wouldn't be surprised if some of the others came back as well. Could probably start our own weyr, with the way they follow him about." She shrugs, and shakes her head: "I don't want Benden dragged along as well, nor do I want T'ral running the weyr through D'ven. I mean, Tiv will draw the line somewhere, that's not a setup he would approve of either, but... still. The connections between this bunch are too strong for D'ven's leadership not to be affected by the others, and given the situations here, it's not an idea I'm particularly comfortable with. I want T'ral out of trouble, not deeper in it." She rubs at her eyebrow again, and takes a breath, nodding slowly: "But as you say, it's up to the dragons, of course."
"And the pulse of the Weyr, they say, but that's so stilted right now, it's not going to count for much. Nobody knows what they want, and nobody agrees." Roa studies, now, the lake and those few dragons still opting to bathe in it, despite the cooling weather. "If T'ral goes back to Benden, D'ven'll be on his heels somehow or another. Another thing worth remembering, for myself, I guess."
"How could they know? I imagine most just want whatever it is that will make things calm down for a while," Ginella says, hands sliding down into her pockets again. There's a nod for Roa's observation. "I imagine he will, and Br'ce, too. And Nari and I'sen go where they go. It's two turns down the road, at least, but something to keep in mind." She's quiet a moment, then snorts softly, shaking her head. "It's funny, that I should be the one with the responsibility, and not him. He gets transferred, and brings half a wing with him. Nobody followed me. Dara should have been a bronze."
"Maybe we can paint him," Roa suggests, the only giveaway that she's jesting a faint quirking of the corner of her lips. And then, after a pause, she notes softly, "T'ral followed you."
Ginella laughs, "Now there's a plan. I'm sure no one will realize he changed overnight." After the pause, and the words, Ginella pauses, and then shakes her head, smiling ruefully. "No he didn't." She doesn't elaborate for a long moment, but finally feels the need to clarify: "He was transferred here against his will."
"There's a story there," the once-Telgari muses softly before once again moving in the direction of warmth and food. "He -should- have impressed bronze. Why didn't he? I mean, I don't expect anyone to be able to answer that. I just...why didn't shelling R'vain impress brown? Or D'ven, for that matter? For all the dragons know what they're doing...I don't know. We're not supposed to wonder about that sort of thing. Sorry." The smile is weak and Roa ducks her head down.
"A story that's not mine to tell," Ginella replies softly, following along beside Roa and shrugging: "Because fate preferred to make things harder for us? I don't know. I wonder all the time. I love Darageth, though. He's sweet, and good for Tiv. Big enough to be a bronze, too," she adds, shaking her head, "Big enough, and strong enough. If his hide were just a -little- bit shinier..." He could probably catch a gold.
"To make life...well, that's the truth of it," she chuckles. "Ever wonder about yourself? Why gold? Why a dragon found you at all?" Roa again rolls her shoulder and resettles her satchel. "I play that game a whole lot, too. Maybe if we got Darageth really well oiled..." she snickers. "You do realize, don't you, that whenever one of you lot refers to that dragon as 'Dara', I immediately think of the cook Essdara?"
Ginella laughs. "Of course I wonder. All the time. I've tried to stop, since I haven't managed to come up with any sort of satisfactory explanation, and it irritates Aneleth when I do it." She rubs at her side, and then laughs again, nodding. "Maybe. Some oil, and some metallic powder of some sort... and my next flight will be all set." She pumps her fist in faux-celebration, imitating her boy and his boys, also. At the name confusion, she raises a brow, then laughs. "Do you really? That must be confusing. I've just known Darageth a lot longer. Essdara the cook would never occur to me. Never have much occasion to speak of her, either," she admits.
"She's a good person, worth knowing. Also, shelling amazing at what she does. Having a friend in the kitchens is never a bad thing." A small smirk that grows as Roa fully takes in the fist pumping. "It doesn't seem to bother Tialith when I think on it, but I can't say she's even remotely helpful." Roa's brows lower slowly and then she asks, "Ginella? How long's it been? Since Aneleth last went up?"
"I've met her a couple times," Ginella admits, "We didn't exactly hit it off." She shrugs a bit, "Though a friend in the kitchens would be nice. I was friends with one of the bakers, briefly, but then he Impressed, and I haven't seen him since, really. But it was nice when he was bringing me cake." She rubs at an eyebrow, then thinks for a moment at the question. "Between a turn and a turn and a half? She's most likely due in a couple months. Why?"
"She..." Roa squints faintly, "she went up just before I came to Caucus. I remember because K'sar told me the day I came. And that was...I came in the sixth month of last turn. So sixteen months ago." A small nod. "And Citalth's latest clutch have all graduated. It's just, I don't know. It's just funny. Besides Ulyath's flight, I don't recall a single queen rising here since I arrived. That's creeping up on a turn and a half."
Ginella nods. "That's right," she confirms, "Sixteen sounds right. And so far, she's risen about everything eighteen months. So I figure another couple, and we'll see." She thinks back, at Roa's words, and nods. "It is odd. Makes you wonder if there's something in the water or the air here, or something, keeping them all down. Vasyath I can understand, she's up there in years, and even Nenuith was getting older, but for not a single gold to have risen... is unusual. Still that'd make it what, about two turns for Citalth? That's not completely out of the ordinary. How long has it been since Tialith went up last?"
"She never has," Roa says a bit more quietly. "She's past the middle of her second turn now. She's well within the age, but..." a small shake of her head. "Nothing. And Nenuith and Vasyath did rise. They..." Roa stops walking and her eyes widen slightly. "They rose. Once they left Reaches."
Ginella blinks. "She never has?" She looks confused: "How is that... did you just come here, instead of going through weyrlinghood? I'm sorry, I didn't mean that to sound rude, I just... don't understand. Aneleth was almost two by the time I -graduated-, and you've been here a fourteen months, now." She must have misunderstood. The last bit, the bit that widens Roa's eyes, widens Ginella's also, briefly. "It's -is- strange," she agrees slowly, "But it can't -actually- be something about the Reaches, because Aneleth did rise here, after she'd been here for a turn, even."
"And Ulyath rose as well. And Citalth. Certainly, it's happening. It's only happening...slowly. Tia was a turn and a half when we graduated. We came to Caucus a month after graduation. One month of sleeping in a weyr before it was barracks again." Roa's brows furrow. "I want to think on this. Would you...if it comes up, would you ask around a bit? See if any of the other Caucus golds are off their schedule? And watch Aneleth. I wonder if she won't...well. We'll see."
"True, she did. Golds -have- risen, here. And it's hard to keep track of the Caucus golds, since most go back to their home weyrs for the flights. We're going to, this time, M'arik has requested it." She scratches an eyebrow, and then nods. "Ah. So Tialith's almost three turns. That makes more sense." She nods, thoughtfully, "I can ask a little, but... I don't even know how such a thing would be possible. Or who would do it. Maybe it's just the weather," she suggests, with a crooked smile. "It's a -cold- place we live in."
"Maybe," Roa murmurs. But she's distracted. "Look, I think I'm going to cut out from lunch and look up some things. Drink something warm for me, okay? And just, yeh, let me know if anything catches your attention. Anyone making a note of it. See you next class, Ginella!" She walking backwards long enough to wave before she's turning and jogging towards the Records Room.
Time: Late morning on Day 8, Month 9, Turn 2
Players: Roa and Ginella
Scene: Roa and Ginny discuss leadership, transfers, and various other things. Roa maybe realizes something.
Classroom
One of several classrooms used by the Weyr, this is the largest and most versatile. The walls adjacent to the bowl are lined with sandtables and high shelves that neatly store a variety of writing implements. Rather than the typical arrangement of student desks and benches lined up to face the front of the room, that furniture has been arranged in a broad semi-circle surrounding a bare work area. A single desk occupies the corner nearest the door exiting into the records room, providing a place for the current instructor to store their materials.
Class is over and the students are packing up and making their way for the door. The instructor slips out first and a small murmur of chatter begins as people begin to relax, discuss this and that and decide who will eat lunch with who today. Seated somewhere in the middle is Roa. She is a little slower in leaving, quill still rushing over a hide with quiet determination. Being recently transferred and with her rumor history the way it is, more than one person spares the little weyrwoman a thoughtful glance as they depart, but she seems too busy to notice.
Ginella is similarly slow to pack up, hurrying to finish a few notes before gathering up her things. She looks up, and spots Roa, slowing in her movements even further. Oh look, she forgot to make a note. This holds her up until pretty much all the other students have exited but her and the Reaches goldrider. Bag in hand, Ginella drifts towards the other's desk. "That bit at the end was confusing, huh?" she announces her presence to the weyrwoman, waiting a minute before asking: "How're things going?"
Writing...writing...with a soft sigh Roa halts and tucks her pen away about the same time the other goldrider begins her approach. She looks up as Ginella arrives, offering a small smile. "It was. Even moreso because I'd sort of stopped paying attention," the other girl murmurs guiltily. "Things are going all right, thanks. And with you, Ginella?"
Ginella smiles back at the guilty murmur, shrugging: "We all blank out sometimes, I'm sure. That /voice/, how could you not?" She pulls a bit of a face, then shrugs again at the question, "I'm well enough. Lots to do, as usual, but nothing compared to the load you must have. I'm surprised you're keeping with the classes," she admits, "Though I suppose you might not have -any- time for them, soon."
The hide with all the scibbling is blown on several times to dry it and then carefully rolled. "He is a bit monotonous, isn't he," Roa muses with a tiny smile. "I've been, well, it's certainly been harder. But so far, it's been doable. There are three of us, and the work is fairly well distributed." She bends down to pick up her bag and set it on her lap. As Ginella gets that last remark in, Roa glances up with an arched eyebrow. "Getting in on the betting pool, weyrwoman?" she teases with a little laugh.
"Little bit," Ginella admits, casting a surreptitious glance around to make sure said Instructor is not within earshot. "I'm sure," she nods along about things being harder, shrugging: "Still, just juggling both can't be easy. I do very little for Benden from here, and it's still difficult." At the tease, she laughs lightly, and shakes her head: "No, not me. I've no doubt Tiv has a bet down somewhere, though, so if you've any inside information about who'll rise and who'll win..." She teases back, smiling.
Roa smirks. "Tiv would, wouldn't he. Or, Faranth, I imagine D'ven is -running- the betting pool." She shakes her head, eyes rolling at the thought, or the betting, or the bronzerider in question. "I suppose since I'm inside of it, all my information would be considered so. But, alas for us both, Tialith doesn't seem to be willing to share that particular secret." Satchel strap draped over her shoulder, Roa begins to scoot out of her seat and stand. "What do you think of that new class? The one G'thon is teaching?"
Ginella arches a brow very faintly at the familiar way she mentions the brownrider, but moves on, shaking her head: "I don't think D'ven's running this one. Seems unfair, don't you think? When he's in the running himself? He could rig the whole thing, and just not fly at all, win bags of money. Wouldn't put such a thing past him at all, really." The goldrider removes her hand from the edge of the other's desk, shrugging at the question. "I'm not sure, yet. I think the Instructor is probably the most interesting thing so far."
The shorter of the two women is moving towards the door as she talks, but certainly at a slow enough pace that the invitation to walk with, if not said outright, is implied. "No, I wouldn't really put it past him, either." Roa dips her head into a nod for the answer regarding G'thon. "Oh, absolutely. Ethics. It's...when I first heard, I just thought it was a joke. Still, I'm going to take it, I think. I'm too curious about it not to."
"Not past him at all," Ginella agrees, falling into slow step next to Roa. "You think D'ven's in the running, then? I'm betting that's where T'ral has his money, loyalty and all that, you know." G'thon's class gets a pause before she nods. "I'd like to, as well. I'm afraid it seems like one of those classes that could easily get out of hand. I suppose we'll find out!"
Roa grins. "I suppose we will. It'll be nice to have the company. Reyce is taking it too, I hear. I'm not sure who else. Bailie, I'll bet. And I bet the Headmaster has Neiran take it." Walk...walk..."Is D'ven in the running? Well, I mean, they're all in the running, aren't they? But, I think he'll stay. I don't think he'll take Teraneth elsewhere when the time comes. Sometimes I wonder if he's got a bit more sense than he likes to let on."
"I wouldn't be surprised if it were a popular class," Ginella agrees, listening a little more sharply as they return to D'ven and is prospects. "I suppose they are, technically," she concedes, before falling silent again. When Roa seems done, she shrugs: "He might. What do you think will happen if he were to win? Another outsider?"
"I think the line between insider and outsider needs to stop being drawn. He's transferred. He's Reaches now. Shells, I'd like to just draw up a graph for everyone and point out the number of riders that are here who weren't born here. Transfers happen. It's time to grow up." Roa pauses at the door, eyes lowering briefly. "Sorry," she murmurs. "Sorry. I'm just...the argument seems absurd to me."
"You can't just eliminate the distinction, Roa, even if it might make things easier," Ginella replies, shaking her head, "He Impressed and was trained at Benden. It's not the same as just not being -born- at High Reaches. He's lived here for less than a Turn." She shakes her head again at the apology, clearly not offended in any way, just... not entirely in agreement. "I'm not saying the response to Yevide and J'cor was justified, far from it. But I understand why many people see recent transfers as outsiders and worry about them taking over. If nothing else, it's a matter of them not knowing a place."
"And I can understand riders feeling frustrated because those who might be in charge don't know the Weyr as well as they do. But is seems a wiser course of action to then assist those who haven't been trained here, rather than drawing a line in the sand and glaring from the other side. What I don't understand..." and now they have moved into the hallway and Roa adjusts the satchel strap on her shoulder, "is this idea that just because someone came from another Weyr and comes to power, they're out to destroy this place. I mean, this is their home now. Weyrs are autonomous. Are folks actually worried that if, to pick the example already noted, D'ven became weyrleader, he'd be doing so for the sake of Benden? What does that even mean?"
"I'm not advocating glaring," Ginella says, running a hand into her hair, "I'm just saying that there -is- a difference between transfers and native riders, and we shouldn't pretend that there isn't." Hair fixed, she drops her hand into her pocket as they head outside. "And I agree, the idea that their aim is to destroy is silly and, I hope, no longer as popular, since clearly J'cor has not tried to do that." The rest earns a bit of a shrug, and she shakes her head. "I don't know, exactly. I mean, it would mean he was M'arik's puppet, which in itself is not that silly a thing for people to suppose. What M'arik would then do with him and Reaches, I don't really know. If Benden and Reaches were closer together, I suppose they could screw with coverage areas and somehow redirect tithes, or something, but..." She shrugs. "I don't know. I think the problem isn't that so much as native riders resenting leadership positions being stolen away from them by newcomers."
"I didn't mean to imply that you advocated glaring." And then Roa pauses to smirk, because that was just peculiar to say. "It just seems to be the course of action chosen when people are discussing transferred riders. Us and Them. What side are you on. Certainly, there is a difference. In experience, in upbringing, but not in -sides-. There shouldn't be sides in a Weyr. Not like that." As they slip out of the hallway and into the bowl, making a leisurely path towards the Living Caverns and lunch. "I don't think the Weyr Council would stand for such tampering. Weyrs need and want their autonomy. As far as leadership being 'stolen' away..." Roa's shoulders lift and fall in a cavalier shrug, "the system of selecting new leaders makes no distinction between new arrivals and natives. Perhaps it would be wise if the residents began to follow suit."
"Well, in this case, my 'Us' is their 'Them'," Ginella points out, "And no, I suppose their shouldn't be sides. But different weyrs do things differently. Styles and customs may clash significantly. It's good to get ideas from different places, and have transfers between weyrs, but it can be jarring to have that introduced on a large-scale." She meanders along, shrugging, "I don't know... I think they wouldn't, except... Yevide and J'cor looked an awful lot like tampering, and I didn't hear of the Council doing anything about it. And it would be -nice- if the residents began to follow suit... but I can't see that changing overnight. And in the meantime..."
"In the meantime, neither Tialith or Citalth are giving any indication they're ready to rise. So, there's time for folks to get comfortable with the idea of another foreign Weyrleader." Roa sighs softly, "or foreign Weyrwoman, I suppose. But perhaps in the end Citalth will fly, a native will catch, and the debate will be purely academic."
"True," Ginella agrees, "I feel like this period to get used to the idea is good for people. That was part of the problem last time, was that it was so sudden. At least they already know now that you could be Weyrwoman. I don't think there will be as many problems if that should happen." She scratches at her eyebrow, and meanders for another minute before asking: "So why -are- you interested in D'ven?"
The littler weyrwoman pauses in their walking to consider, eyes looking upwards, head tipping to the side. "The short answer is because I think he's the best out of a somewhat sorry lot. Which is not meant to sound quite as awful as it does." Roa turns to peer over at Ginella. "The longer answer is that he has potential, he knows his own mind, and if he's faced with the job, he'll take it seriously and mean to muddle through as best he can. I wish he didn't look so strongly to T'ral however, no offense intended."
Ginella arches a brow. "I won't argue that there's not a huge selection, but is D'ven really the best?" She shakes her head a bit, "I mean, he is smarter than he plays, I know that, but he's also about as much of a gambler, drunk, and womanizer as he plays, not to mention that he lacks leadership experience. I can't imagine that's really what this weyr needs right now." She has paused also, and finally turns to look at Roa at the last, snorting faintly: "So do I. But he does, they all do. Where T'ral goes, they follow, and what they break, he fixes. If you drag D'ven into all of this here, you're not just dragging D'ven. You're dragging every Bendenite here, myself included, and where you drag me, you drag Benden Weyr. You understand that?"
Roa mmms softly, "A thing worth considering," she concedes by way of that last. Dragging in Benden. "He is, yes, a womanizer, a drinker, and a gambler. But he knows it, and he knows running a Weyr and living as indulgently as he does won't mix. I think he'd make the right choice, if it came down to it." She shakes her head slowly and sighs softly. "T'ral should have impressed bronze," she murmurs softly and then, with a bit of a glint to her eye, "You wouldn't choose D'ven. Who then? If it were your pick, which one would you choose?"
Ginella nods soberly as Roa seems to take her warning seriously, and moves past it. "I think he would, if it came down to it. He's a good man, or T'ral wouldn't be friends with him. They're a silly bunch of boys when they're together, but good men at heart." As for her beloved's dragon color, she just laughs, and shakes her head. "You think I would let him become Weyrleader here, if he had?" she jokes, shaking her head. "He ought to have some sort of leadership position, though," she says, more seriously, "And I don't just say that as his girl. He denies and denies his potential. Somebody ought to make him Wingsecond, or Assistant Weyrlingmaster, or something, force him to recognize it. He'd be good." She runs a hand into her hair, and then shrugs at the question. "I don't know, to be honest. What are the other choices? R'vain? Reaches' own, but a worse drunk than D'ven, and without the smooth talking. Ch'dais is an option, I suppose, though somehow not a very popular one, it seems... I guess I don't know who else there is, really. E'sere was everyone's great hope, or something." She shrugs, and shakes her head. "You're right, there aren't many options."
"Ch'dais, maybe," Roa agrees, "although he's so...it's all so personal with him. I don't know how he'd really manage a whole Weyr's worth of troubles. And I think he wants it even less than D'ven does. R'vain...well, you said it just about right. And D'thor is so puffed up on himself...well, he's the sort to pat a weyrwoman on her head and send her on her way without listening to a word she has to say. T'vas is too angry and too young. R'zel adores E'sere and he's seventeen. So. You can see the difficulties." Roa's lips quirk upwards. "Perhaps if T'ral had a legitimate leadership position, he'd be busy enough with it that the others might need to try a bit of independent thought." Toes, suddenly, are the things to study. "Could I...you mind if I ask you a personal question, Ginella?"
"I don't know Ch'dais at all," Ginella admits, "Just what I've heard of him about Fall and such. And I don't know... I imagine D'ven wants it very very little." She nods about the rest, ticking them off on her fingers and finally running the hand into her hair. "It's not a good state of affairs, I'll agree," she admits, before smirking faintly: "Maybe they would," she shrugs, "Or at least maybe he'd stop fathering them and acting inferior at the same time. It's infuriating. Plus, it will help him in M'arik's eyes. And he'd be good at it," she adds quickly, to cover the brief emergence of selfishness, "Very good." The sudden toe-gazing and the question brings an arch to the goldrider's brows, but she nods slowly: "Go ahead?"
It's the mention of M'arik that has Roa's gaze lifting suddenly and lighting on Ginella. "Never mind," she says softly. "You just answered it." She looks out over the bowl. "I don't particularly want Benden dragged along, and I don't particularly want T'ral quietly running the Weyr through D'ven. Not because of Tiv. Just...it's the principle of the thing. It sits funny. I just don't like it. But. He's still the one I'd choose, if it was me and I was doing the choosing. It might not be. And it's up to Tialith. The best laid plans, you know."
Ginella blinks, then nods slowly: "Do I expect him to transfer back to Benden when I go?" she guesses, then nods again: "That's the plan, yes. Unless a lot changes in the next couple turns, I wouldn't be surprised if some of the others came back as well. Could probably start our own weyr, with the way they follow him about." She shrugs, and shakes her head: "I don't want Benden dragged along as well, nor do I want T'ral running the weyr through D'ven. I mean, Tiv will draw the line somewhere, that's not a setup he would approve of either, but... still. The connections between this bunch are too strong for D'ven's leadership not to be affected by the others, and given the situations here, it's not an idea I'm particularly comfortable with. I want T'ral out of trouble, not deeper in it." She rubs at her eyebrow again, and takes a breath, nodding slowly: "But as you say, it's up to the dragons, of course."
"And the pulse of the Weyr, they say, but that's so stilted right now, it's not going to count for much. Nobody knows what they want, and nobody agrees." Roa studies, now, the lake and those few dragons still opting to bathe in it, despite the cooling weather. "If T'ral goes back to Benden, D'ven'll be on his heels somehow or another. Another thing worth remembering, for myself, I guess."
"How could they know? I imagine most just want whatever it is that will make things calm down for a while," Ginella says, hands sliding down into her pockets again. There's a nod for Roa's observation. "I imagine he will, and Br'ce, too. And Nari and I'sen go where they go. It's two turns down the road, at least, but something to keep in mind." She's quiet a moment, then snorts softly, shaking her head. "It's funny, that I should be the one with the responsibility, and not him. He gets transferred, and brings half a wing with him. Nobody followed me. Dara should have been a bronze."
"Maybe we can paint him," Roa suggests, the only giveaway that she's jesting a faint quirking of the corner of her lips. And then, after a pause, she notes softly, "T'ral followed you."
Ginella laughs, "Now there's a plan. I'm sure no one will realize he changed overnight." After the pause, and the words, Ginella pauses, and then shakes her head, smiling ruefully. "No he didn't." She doesn't elaborate for a long moment, but finally feels the need to clarify: "He was transferred here against his will."
"There's a story there," the once-Telgari muses softly before once again moving in the direction of warmth and food. "He -should- have impressed bronze. Why didn't he? I mean, I don't expect anyone to be able to answer that. I just...why didn't shelling R'vain impress brown? Or D'ven, for that matter? For all the dragons know what they're doing...I don't know. We're not supposed to wonder about that sort of thing. Sorry." The smile is weak and Roa ducks her head down.
"A story that's not mine to tell," Ginella replies softly, following along beside Roa and shrugging: "Because fate preferred to make things harder for us? I don't know. I wonder all the time. I love Darageth, though. He's sweet, and good for Tiv. Big enough to be a bronze, too," she adds, shaking her head, "Big enough, and strong enough. If his hide were just a -little- bit shinier..." He could probably catch a gold.
"To make life...well, that's the truth of it," she chuckles. "Ever wonder about yourself? Why gold? Why a dragon found you at all?" Roa again rolls her shoulder and resettles her satchel. "I play that game a whole lot, too. Maybe if we got Darageth really well oiled..." she snickers. "You do realize, don't you, that whenever one of you lot refers to that dragon as 'Dara', I immediately think of the cook Essdara?"
Ginella laughs. "Of course I wonder. All the time. I've tried to stop, since I haven't managed to come up with any sort of satisfactory explanation, and it irritates Aneleth when I do it." She rubs at her side, and then laughs again, nodding. "Maybe. Some oil, and some metallic powder of some sort... and my next flight will be all set." She pumps her fist in faux-celebration, imitating her boy and his boys, also. At the name confusion, she raises a brow, then laughs. "Do you really? That must be confusing. I've just known Darageth a lot longer. Essdara the cook would never occur to me. Never have much occasion to speak of her, either," she admits.
"She's a good person, worth knowing. Also, shelling amazing at what she does. Having a friend in the kitchens is never a bad thing." A small smirk that grows as Roa fully takes in the fist pumping. "It doesn't seem to bother Tialith when I think on it, but I can't say she's even remotely helpful." Roa's brows lower slowly and then she asks, "Ginella? How long's it been? Since Aneleth last went up?"
"I've met her a couple times," Ginella admits, "We didn't exactly hit it off." She shrugs a bit, "Though a friend in the kitchens would be nice. I was friends with one of the bakers, briefly, but then he Impressed, and I haven't seen him since, really. But it was nice when he was bringing me cake." She rubs at an eyebrow, then thinks for a moment at the question. "Between a turn and a turn and a half? She's most likely due in a couple months. Why?"
"She..." Roa squints faintly, "she went up just before I came to Caucus. I remember because K'sar told me the day I came. And that was...I came in the sixth month of last turn. So sixteen months ago." A small nod. "And Citalth's latest clutch have all graduated. It's just, I don't know. It's just funny. Besides Ulyath's flight, I don't recall a single queen rising here since I arrived. That's creeping up on a turn and a half."
Ginella nods. "That's right," she confirms, "Sixteen sounds right. And so far, she's risen about everything eighteen months. So I figure another couple, and we'll see." She thinks back, at Roa's words, and nods. "It is odd. Makes you wonder if there's something in the water or the air here, or something, keeping them all down. Vasyath I can understand, she's up there in years, and even Nenuith was getting older, but for not a single gold to have risen... is unusual. Still that'd make it what, about two turns for Citalth? That's not completely out of the ordinary. How long has it been since Tialith went up last?"
"She never has," Roa says a bit more quietly. "She's past the middle of her second turn now. She's well within the age, but..." a small shake of her head. "Nothing. And Nenuith and Vasyath did rise. They..." Roa stops walking and her eyes widen slightly. "They rose. Once they left Reaches."
Ginella blinks. "She never has?" She looks confused: "How is that... did you just come here, instead of going through weyrlinghood? I'm sorry, I didn't mean that to sound rude, I just... don't understand. Aneleth was almost two by the time I -graduated-, and you've been here a fourteen months, now." She must have misunderstood. The last bit, the bit that widens Roa's eyes, widens Ginella's also, briefly. "It's -is- strange," she agrees slowly, "But it can't -actually- be something about the Reaches, because Aneleth did rise here, after she'd been here for a turn, even."
"And Ulyath rose as well. And Citalth. Certainly, it's happening. It's only happening...slowly. Tia was a turn and a half when we graduated. We came to Caucus a month after graduation. One month of sleeping in a weyr before it was barracks again." Roa's brows furrow. "I want to think on this. Would you...if it comes up, would you ask around a bit? See if any of the other Caucus golds are off their schedule? And watch Aneleth. I wonder if she won't...well. We'll see."
"True, she did. Golds -have- risen, here. And it's hard to keep track of the Caucus golds, since most go back to their home weyrs for the flights. We're going to, this time, M'arik has requested it." She scratches an eyebrow, and then nods. "Ah. So Tialith's almost three turns. That makes more sense." She nods, thoughtfully, "I can ask a little, but... I don't even know how such a thing would be possible. Or who would do it. Maybe it's just the weather," she suggests, with a crooked smile. "It's a -cold- place we live in."
"Maybe," Roa murmurs. But she's distracted. "Look, I think I'm going to cut out from lunch and look up some things. Drink something warm for me, okay? And just, yeh, let me know if anything catches your attention. Anyone making a note of it. See you next class, Ginella!" She walking backwards long enough to wave before she's turning and jogging towards the Records Room.