Buck Up
Location: Vanya's Room
Time: Evening on Day 15, Month 12, Turn 2
Players: Vanya and Roa
Scene: Roa pays a visit to the postless healer to try and help her realize the unique advantages to her situation.
Vanya's Room
There isn't much a person can do to disguise the fact this room is little more than a cave. The walls are stone, smoothed by hand or by some long-forgotten or long-gone machine used by those who first built the weyr. The door is solid wood, sturdy, the fixtures utilitarian. The basic furniture is all there -- bed, table, two chairs, wall shelves and a wooden storage chest. Simple. As is the occupant, since there is little in the way of fancy knickknacks or personal possessions. The bed has plain sheets, two down-filled pillows, and a warm, woven blanket in dark green. The chest holds clothes, and more blankets as a bastion against the cold, High Reaches winter. A glow basket hangs from the wall over the bed, another sits on the table, glows replenished whenever needed by those unseen people who perform this task.
On a shelf above the table are a bottle of ink, writing instruments, sand and some already prepared hides. Very rare and precious paper documents are carefully arranged on another shelf, held down by a polished stone collected from some place. Yet another shelf holds vials and bottles of lotions, astringents, and other containers of herbs and oils. The only luxurious thing here, if it can be called that, is a handmade rug that lies beside the bed on top of a thick layer of reeds. Stone floors are notoriously cold on bare feet. A black cloak hangs on a peg by the door, as does a gittern, the instrument carefully wrapped in a protective bag. A basket, leather satchel and two pairs of boots sit on the floor beneath.
The evening rush for dinner is over, and Vanya has brought a tray of food to her room for a little privacy. She hasn't been very social for the past few days, and perhaps word has got around that she's withdrawn. It's likely that a few people have heard that she was removed from her post by the Hall, and folks are leaving her alone. At any rate, the door to her room is cracked open, as it usually is of an evening. Sometimes people do drop in for conversation, or just to check on her. R'zel, R'hal ... they come by. So did H'kon. So, the door stays open, and Vanya simply sits at her table, eating. No, not eating, picking at the plate of vegetables and meat. Lying open on the table is the letter from Healer Hall, and the scent of lavender is in the air. Only one of the small braziers is lighted, leaving a cool temperature in the room, but she doesn't seem to feel it.
There are soft footfalls and then a faint rapping at the door to announce that Vanya has yet one more visitor, although the knocks and the steps were perhaps too light to be R'hal or H'kon or even R'zel. There are three knocks on the door, each one nudging it a smidge more open by accident and revealing a pair of blue eyes peering quizzically inside. "Journeyman?" comes Roa's voice, her head tipping so one of those eyes might get a glimpse of the room. "Are you busy?"
Vanya glances up at the soft knocking, setting down her fork. Rising, she moves to the door, opening, perhaps a little surprised to see Roa standing in the hallway outside. "Weyrwoman," she says, caught slightly off-guard. "Please, no, I'm not busy. Come in, won't you?" The door is held open for Roa, and the healer glances almost self-consciously around the room. It's neat, thank goodness. "An unexpected pleasure to see you, ma'am." The words almost nervous, as if she expects ... well, something not good? There hasn't been much good lately, after all. "Won't you sit down? I was just having dinner, but I'm pretty much through."
There is a faint but not unfriendly smirk as Vanya calls Roa's arrival a pleasure, but she slips inside at the invitation. "Thank you, I..." her perusal of the room takes in the dinner plate. "I didn't mean to interrupt your meal." Still, she pulls up a chair and sets herself down near the other seat and the partially eaten food and the letter. "Rumors travel painfully quickly. This one had me curious. Am I being too nosey?"
Vanya closes the door almost all the way, planning to leave it cracked. But, when Roa mentions rumors, it's closed totally. There's a moment that the healer just stands there, her posture stiff, but that passes quickly. "Yes, they do," she says softly, her shoulders sagging just a little as she returns to the table. "It's all right. I wasn't all that hungry, ma'am. You aren't interrupting, and you're not being too nosey. You're one of the Weyrleaders, after all. It's your business to know what goes on in the weyr." Vanya sits down in her chair. "Can I offer you a glass of juice, or I do have a bottle of wine, if you'd prefer."
"No thank you," Roa murmurs, her gaze settled squarely on that hide stamped with the seal of Healer Hall. "And I don't think you need to bother with 'ma'am'. The door's closed, after all." Her gaze darts up and over to Vanya, a faint smile flashing before she looks down again. One hand lifts and half-reaches for the letter. "May I?"
Vanya nods, picking up her own glass of juice and sipping. "Very well," she says, accepting Roa's wish to dispense with the "ma'am." At the request, she nods, "I don't mind, no. There's not much in there, to be honest. Just the news that I've been removed from my post, and various reasons listed. All very proper and vague, as the Hall is known to be at times. They apparently feel I violated the terms of my enforced leave by taking on a position with Sinopa, and therefore did not rest properly." All this is said with a rather bland tone of voice, without rancor, at least, nor any particular bitterness. "I have not been recalled to the Hall, nor reassigned, which is odd, I suppose."
The little weyrwoman picks up the letter, eyes flicking over the words. She gathers the news both from the text and from Vanya's critique of it. "Well," Roa muses idly, "no one could say working for a weyrwoman is relaxing." She chuckles softly and then looks over the letter a final time, before handing it back. "You have your knot, no posting, and no expectation to return to the Hall. And this is meant to be...punishment?" One brow arches upwards.
Vanya shrugs. "I make no pretense to explain what the Hall does or means to do," she says with a wry smirk. "I'm not even sure why they didn't immediately recall me and post me somewhere else, unless they feel I'm incompetent or somehow my skills are questionable." There's emotion behind those words. "And, oddly enough, I don't do well without something to occupy my mind. If I'm forced to be idle, I get restless and it drives me out of my mind with boredom. I found the work Sinopa had me do restful, since I'm good at handling records and doing research. That's ... just me, I guess." Another shrug. "Punishment or not, it means I cannot do the one thing I'm best trained to do, Roa. I'm a healer, but now...? Well, let's just say that my services aren't going to be needed in the Infirmary unless it's a dire emergency. I got that from my reception there."
The weyrwoman's head cants to the side, hands settling in her lap. "And now? You're still a healer. One not currently restricted by specific hours or tied to any particular place. You could..." Roa's eyes widen and her head shakes. "Do you know what you could do? Anything. I mean, truly, anything. You have a knot. Your skills are sanctioned by the hall. And you're free to find income on your own. The letter even says so." Long finger reach out to flick at the hide. "Pissing them off is possibly one of the luckiest breaks you could have gotten."
Vanya's forehead creases. "I did consider picking up a private practice with massage therapy," she admits. "I read that carefully, and didn't see anything in there that restricts me from doing that, but --" She moistens her lips. "I didn't want to risk upsetting anyone. Sinopa has told me I'm free to remain her assistant, and I will, but yes, you're right. It does give me a lot of freedom a posting doesn't offer." There's thought behind the words, and a little straightening of her shoulders. "I don't want to leave the weyr," she says bluntly. "It's become more of a home to me than Ruatha was. I have friends here that I care a great deal for, and ... all right, I know you and I haven't talked very often, but I don't have anything against you, Roa. I just want what's best for the weyr. I want to see High Reaches prosper, and people not be hurt anymore."
"Then stay," notes Roa simply. "I haven't a thing against you either, and if Neiran's bothered to talk with you, you're clearly intelligent. A massage practice could be a good thing. Faranth knows we have more riders than we have healers to keep their backs from curling into pretzels from all that taking off and landing we do. No to mention that threadscores can heal too tight, and with new injuries coming in, there's barely any time to do more than toss a cream or salve on the old ones. Plus, I mean, look, not everybody lives in a main hall or hold. How many cotholders live in High Reaches territory? That get access to a healer on circuit maybe...what...every couple months?"
All of this is listened to and, perhaps, more importantly heard. "I hadn't thought about that," she says softly. "The cotholds, I mean. That's very true, and ... yes, I could do that. I ride well, and if I had good maps, I could find the places, provided the snow's not too deep." She obviously means riding a runner, there. As for the rest. "I know a few people who wanted lessons in massage, and I planned to teach them. I just feel funny asking them for ... to pay me." And she looks down again. "It's awkward, but without a stipend, I would have to get paid somehow. Otherwise ..." She trails off. "And, I'm sure I'll have to move back into the dorms, since I was told private rooms were only for posted crafters. I'm not posted here anymore, and it's hard to lug around a massage table from weyr to weyr."
"Mmm, well, rooms are traditionally for posted crafters only. Free rooms, at any rate." One brow arches but Roa says nothing more on the subject. "I've been told there's a greenrider that needs some extra tasks to do. Perhaps I'll put him in contact with you, if you like." Roa tips her head down, fingertips studied. "Drop a word in the right ear, Vanya. Of your new and amazing services. All it takes is a little start and a few customers pleased with the results. As I said. Rumor travels fast."
There is quiet for a few minutes, then Vanya nods. "I know I have options, Roa. Sinopa and I talked earlier, and I realized that things aren't quite as hopeless as they seemed at first. I don't know how much a room would cost me, but I can ask. I don't sleep well in the dorms. Just ... too many people around." And then she, too, lets that subject drop. At mention of a greenrider, she cants her head to the side, curiosity in her expression, but she doesn't ask the obvious. "Right now, H'kon's keeping my table up in his weyr, so I know it's safe." A moment, and then she's asking something else. "Is it possible, do you know, that any of these ingredients would be harmful to dragons?" And she's standing up to fetch a journal, flipping open to a specific page with a recipe for liniment -- wintergreen, glycerine, mint and a few other herbs. "I know fellis is fatal to them, but I haven't learned enough to know of anything else."
"Well, there's not much dragons ingest, really, for medicinal purposes." Roa seems happy to launch into this topic. She reaches a hand out for the journal to peruse the list. "Nothing I see here would cause issues if applied topically. Numbweed can cause stomach upset if it's licked, not to mention they don't much like it when they lose feeling in their tongue." Her head tips to the other side.
A smile touches Vanya's lips at the last. "No, I don't imagine they would," she says. "This is decidedly a topical application. There's a dragon I've been working with who has an old injury that bothers him a bit. His rider and I were talking, and I ... well, I couldn't help but wonder if some of the long-term treatments and exercises I've recommended for human patients wouldn't help. His rider did tell me heat and a more up and down type of exercise eased stiffness caused by the cold, so ... I thought maybe some of the liniment oil I use for massage might not help a bit, too." She pauses, adding, "Not that I can really effectively massage the leg, but I can try. I do find dragon healing interesting and challenging."
"Well, you couldn't effectively massage with your hands," the little weyrwoman considers, "But I wonder if you couldn't devise something? We have brushes for oiling. We've come up with straps to ride them. Do you suppose coming up with a tool to exert pressure on a wide enough space would be possible?"
This is something Vanya has not considered, obviously, since her expression is, at first, a little blank. "I ... don't know," she says after a moment of thought. "It's certainly an idea worth considering. Perhaps ..." She lets her voice trail off for a few minutes. "I remember something ... just let me think a minute. Something I saw a while back in the records room at the hall. It was a type of roller. Not like the ones cooks use, but something like it. Hand held, but it could be moved over a particularly stiff area of the body, like this," she says, moving her hand back and forth. "It had several small, round wheels on axles that let them move over the skin, and it spoke of applying pressure." She shakes her head. "I'd have to go back to the Hall and see if I could find it, but something like that might work."
"And wonder of wonders, Vanya," Roa leans forward smirking, "You also actually have the time to -work- on such ideas, since you're under no obligation to take shifts in the infirmary." She chuckles faintly, and then leans back. "And it sounds like you also have a willing client to try a prototype out on."
"Yes, that's true, as well," Vanya admits, smiling. "As long as I can figure a way to manage until I can get paying clients, of course. If they turn me out tomorrow, well, that will certainly put a bit of a cramp in things." She chuckles, since the likelihood of her actually being forced out of the room into the cold is slim. "I will miss being in the Infirmary, though. I'm not going to deny that, Roa. And, I was very close to just handing back my knot, but I've worked so hard --" She stops. No, no use in going into that old bitterness. "I can but try." She nods again. "I should be able to rig up something. H'kon's very ingenious, and enjoys working with his hands. I can likely consult him and see what he can think of. And, Neiran may also have some ideas. His work on dragon healing is incredible. Have you seen his compilation?"
Roa nods. "You can but try. It's all any of us can do, really." Then mention that Vanya considered handing back her knot has Roa's head lifting and her eyes widening faintly. But she only presses her lips together and then presses on. "You've worked hard, and that work will serve you well. This in an opportunity, Vanya. Treat it as such and you'll be amazed."
"Yes, I've worked too hard for it to just give up, but the temptation is still there, Roa," Vanya says. "A woman has to work three times as hard for recognition in the crafts than any one man. If you knew how much harder I had to work to earn that knot than the /male/ Apprentices did --" Her own lips clamp down, and she takes a moment to compose herself. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't speak so." No, she shouldn't, but she can't stop from feeling it. "I've never ignored opportunities when they came my way, and I won't now. I make mistakes, but at least I /learn/ from them."
"Then it's worth it. And please," Roa shakes her head. "Do not think for an instant I am unaware of the challenges facing women in hall, hold, and weyr. No matter where you live, if you've got hips," the weyrwoman pauses to glance down at her own twig of a figure, "or are supposed to, at any rate, it's thought to affect what's between your ears. At least, in the crafthalls, they can't as easily marry you off."
There is a nod to this. "Yes, and if you go around spouting your opinions, your ideas, even just suggestions, then you're a radical," Vanya says, and the bitterness can't be disguised. "My own specialty is considered highly unorthodox, and I wonder if that's so much because it fell out of favor as it was proposed by a woman. A woman who would be putting her hands on men who aren't her husband!" She looks down at her hands. "I wish I could say that without feeling angry, but I can't. It's just not right, Roa. It's not. At least here in the weyr it's not so bad, and I was respected for what I could do. At least here I wasn't --" She stops again, and shakes her head. "I'm sorry. You're right. I'm not telling you anything you don't already know."
"Or anything I disagree with," Roa adds with a soft chuckle. "Talk to Tavaly if you ever have the time, or Issa, if you want to know what it's like to be a woman and a rider. Or talk to Essdara or Rysia, you want to know what it is to live here as a resident. It's better, but it's not..." instead of finishing the sentence, Roa only shrugs.
"There's no perfect place," Vanya agrees. "The weyr, most of the people I know here are reasonably happy, and I don't run into all the prejudice there is at the hall and holds, but it's still there, I know." She sighs a bit. "Thing is, it's a whole 'nother world here, and I wonder if that wasn't the problem I faced. The reason I made so many mistakes." She looks down at her hands. "At the hold, at the hall, there are rules that must be observed. It's a very restrictive society, and here -- well, things are looser. It's freer, and there are so many pitfalls you can stumble into if you're not used to that much ... freedom."
"But you know better, now. I'm sorry things turned out as they did. I wish it hadn't been so. Believe me, if only as someone who rides a gold dragon, I very much wish bronzeriders all met the standard they're supposed to. But." Roa's fingers lace together. "He let everybody down."
Vanya cants her head to the side once more. "Yes, he did," she says, smiling softly. "And it's so sad, that. He could have had it all if he hadn't cheated. I still ... I guess I still hope that someday he'll realize that, but I don't think he will. I'm sorry I blamed you for that, Roa. I was ... well, no one wants to think the person they love is guilty of such horrible things." She shakes her head. "I wasn't talking about just that, though. I made mistakes other than just E'sere, and the Hall doesn't like it when their representatives make mistakes or end up the subject of gossip." She's quiet a moment. "I know it doesn't make any difference, but I don't sleep around, Roa. I've only ever been with two men. Ever. Despite what the gossip says."
There is, now, a full on snicker. "Journeyman," the little weyrwoman murmurs with a smirk, "either you believe the rumors and assume those who haven't shared my bed are in the minority and hence what should I care who's been in yours, or you do not believe them and you know you speak to someone who might empathize with such a plight. Either way, you were right at the first. It doesn't matter, save to you. But it's duly noted that you're not as they say in that regard."
"I don't listen to gossip, or try not to," Vanya says, "and please, just call me Vanya. It's just us, and I had a name long before I had that title." She chuckles a little. "I haven't really paid a lot of attention at who's in who's bed, though it's a favorite topic of conversation around here." She shakes her head, chuckling again. "I've never been in a place where the gossip runs so rampant, and I guess I just want to have someone know the truth. That's important to me. Honesty. I'm not particularly ashamed of anything I've done, save that I'm embarrassed to have been so well taken for a ride by E'sere. I was ripe for the plucking, and he was shrewd enough to see that. But, life goes on, and the only thing I really regret is he wasn't the man I thought he was."
The smaller woman clears her throat softly, biting her inner cheek as her shoulders shake with poorly managed mirth. "I'm sorry. Forgive me. It's only...when talking of men and those you have or have not..." Roa clears her throat. "'Taken for a ride' and 'ripe for the plucking' are not terminology I'd suggest using when attempting to verify one's mostly unsoiled virtue." There is a bit more clearing of her throat and then the smile is finally tucked away. "At any rate, what I find is that those who know you will also know what is true. And those who do not are inclined to believe whatever is the most amusing." She shrugs. "You get accustomed to it. Or you flee in horror."
Well, even Vanya can see the humor in that. "Poorly chosen phrases, indeed. I'll remember that in the future. I suppose it comes from reading that romance novel I bought at the gather. Such flowery speech ...!" She shakes her head. "Never read any of them before, but I was bored." She chuckles. "I suppose what I said is better than weeping and wailing and saying I was deflowered." She smiles. "Well, I haven't fled in horror, although I did consider it once or twice. Problem with that is I'm not a coward. I might withdraw a little, but I'll never run away. I'm more likely to spout off stupid things when I'm not thinking straight." Ironic that, and her smile is wry.
"Deflowered," Roa shakes her head, rolling her eyes. "You know, when I was very little, I used to imagine that people had a daisy growing right here," her hand lifts, finger tapping to the center of her forehead, "and that eventually someone else comes along and yanks it out. I was very irritated, because, having no daisy on my forehead, I presumed I'd already been deflowered without my noticing. When I was sleeping as a baby, perhaps." Her head cants to the side. "You read romance novels on occasion? I'll admit then, that I do too, although the ones I enjoy the most have been written anonymously. More's the pity."
Vanya smiles. "I didn't even know what it meant until I was at Healer Hall," she admits, and then I was just starting my woman's courses, and was terrified I was dying. The Headwoman explained things to me, and used that term. I wasn't sure what it meant, but I knew I didn't have a flower growing /there/," she says. "And the next month, we began studying the human body, and reproduction and ... I was terrified of all that." She chuckles. "And, that's the first one I've ever read, and it's well-written, if somewhat flowery and impractical, at times. I've no idea who wrote it. There's no author listed." She sighs, smiling a little wryly. "I do wish the ones who write the novels wouldn't make it seem so much better than it can be in real life. I could love the man in the book, but he doesn't exist." She looks a little embarrassed now.
"Course he doesn't. And the story always ends once they find each other. As if finding the person is all the work there is. Faranth." Roa reaches her hands up to rub at her face. "Finding them is nothing compared to keeping them." Her arms again drop into her lap. "No author, hmm? You want to know my pet theory about the unnamed ones?" Roa leans forward a bit, as if about to impart a secret. "I think they're written by a woman, and it's the only way she can get them published."
"Possibly. Or, it's written by a man who's too embarrassed to let his name be associated with romance," Vanya says. "The former is quite likely, but, then, that theory isn't plausible since there are a few female romance writers who are, apparently, quite well known. Miniyal recommended several to me, whose writing is historically accurate, if flowery. I haven't read one yet, but plan to." She ponders this a moment. "No, I'm thinking it's a man who wants his identity hidden for whatever purpose. Maybe he's a Master Harper, or something, or maybe he's just someone who doesn't want his friends to make fun of him. Whichever it is, he's familiar enough with women, but there are aspects of the books which are decidedly from a masculine point of view."
"Mmm. Also possible, I suppose," the weyrwoman concedes after a moment. "Less interesting, though." Fingers tap tap tap on her knee for a moment, before Roa finally sighs and begins to stand. "I'd better head off. Thank you for letting me visit."
"Oh, I don't know," Vanya says to the "less interesting" comment. "I think it's rather /more/ interesting if it's a man. I mean, whoever he is, he obviously has a sense of humor and isn't afraid to let people see a softer side of men -- at least in books." She nods, then, when Roa mentions it's time to leave. "Thank you for visiting, Roa. It was appreciated, and I won't forget what we discussed. Life is full of opportunities, but it's easy to forget that when one door closes, another opens." She rises as well, and offers a smile. "Rest well, and my duty to Tialith. May you both find clear skies and smooth flying." She pauses a moment. "Thank you. What you did meant more than you know."
There is, for all of those words and kindness, only a nod and a faint smile from Roa. "Take care, Vanya." She opens the door and, with a final glance back at the other woman, slips out into the hall and on her way.
Vanya watches the small Weyrwoman leave, and remains standing for several minutes after the door closes. Then, with a smile, she gathers up her dirty dishes, and cleans up the table. For the first time in a couple of days, there's a smile -- a real smile -- on her face. Life does go on.
Time: Evening on Day 15, Month 12, Turn 2
Players: Vanya and Roa
Scene: Roa pays a visit to the postless healer to try and help her realize the unique advantages to her situation.
Vanya's Room
There isn't much a person can do to disguise the fact this room is little more than a cave. The walls are stone, smoothed by hand or by some long-forgotten or long-gone machine used by those who first built the weyr. The door is solid wood, sturdy, the fixtures utilitarian. The basic furniture is all there -- bed, table, two chairs, wall shelves and a wooden storage chest. Simple. As is the occupant, since there is little in the way of fancy knickknacks or personal possessions. The bed has plain sheets, two down-filled pillows, and a warm, woven blanket in dark green. The chest holds clothes, and more blankets as a bastion against the cold, High Reaches winter. A glow basket hangs from the wall over the bed, another sits on the table, glows replenished whenever needed by those unseen people who perform this task.
On a shelf above the table are a bottle of ink, writing instruments, sand and some already prepared hides. Very rare and precious paper documents are carefully arranged on another shelf, held down by a polished stone collected from some place. Yet another shelf holds vials and bottles of lotions, astringents, and other containers of herbs and oils. The only luxurious thing here, if it can be called that, is a handmade rug that lies beside the bed on top of a thick layer of reeds. Stone floors are notoriously cold on bare feet. A black cloak hangs on a peg by the door, as does a gittern, the instrument carefully wrapped in a protective bag. A basket, leather satchel and two pairs of boots sit on the floor beneath.
The evening rush for dinner is over, and Vanya has brought a tray of food to her room for a little privacy. She hasn't been very social for the past few days, and perhaps word has got around that she's withdrawn. It's likely that a few people have heard that she was removed from her post by the Hall, and folks are leaving her alone. At any rate, the door to her room is cracked open, as it usually is of an evening. Sometimes people do drop in for conversation, or just to check on her. R'zel, R'hal ... they come by. So did H'kon. So, the door stays open, and Vanya simply sits at her table, eating. No, not eating, picking at the plate of vegetables and meat. Lying open on the table is the letter from Healer Hall, and the scent of lavender is in the air. Only one of the small braziers is lighted, leaving a cool temperature in the room, but she doesn't seem to feel it.
There are soft footfalls and then a faint rapping at the door to announce that Vanya has yet one more visitor, although the knocks and the steps were perhaps too light to be R'hal or H'kon or even R'zel. There are three knocks on the door, each one nudging it a smidge more open by accident and revealing a pair of blue eyes peering quizzically inside. "Journeyman?" comes Roa's voice, her head tipping so one of those eyes might get a glimpse of the room. "Are you busy?"
Vanya glances up at the soft knocking, setting down her fork. Rising, she moves to the door, opening, perhaps a little surprised to see Roa standing in the hallway outside. "Weyrwoman," she says, caught slightly off-guard. "Please, no, I'm not busy. Come in, won't you?" The door is held open for Roa, and the healer glances almost self-consciously around the room. It's neat, thank goodness. "An unexpected pleasure to see you, ma'am." The words almost nervous, as if she expects ... well, something not good? There hasn't been much good lately, after all. "Won't you sit down? I was just having dinner, but I'm pretty much through."
There is a faint but not unfriendly smirk as Vanya calls Roa's arrival a pleasure, but she slips inside at the invitation. "Thank you, I..." her perusal of the room takes in the dinner plate. "I didn't mean to interrupt your meal." Still, she pulls up a chair and sets herself down near the other seat and the partially eaten food and the letter. "Rumors travel painfully quickly. This one had me curious. Am I being too nosey?"
Vanya closes the door almost all the way, planning to leave it cracked. But, when Roa mentions rumors, it's closed totally. There's a moment that the healer just stands there, her posture stiff, but that passes quickly. "Yes, they do," she says softly, her shoulders sagging just a little as she returns to the table. "It's all right. I wasn't all that hungry, ma'am. You aren't interrupting, and you're not being too nosey. You're one of the Weyrleaders, after all. It's your business to know what goes on in the weyr." Vanya sits down in her chair. "Can I offer you a glass of juice, or I do have a bottle of wine, if you'd prefer."
"No thank you," Roa murmurs, her gaze settled squarely on that hide stamped with the seal of Healer Hall. "And I don't think you need to bother with 'ma'am'. The door's closed, after all." Her gaze darts up and over to Vanya, a faint smile flashing before she looks down again. One hand lifts and half-reaches for the letter. "May I?"
Vanya nods, picking up her own glass of juice and sipping. "Very well," she says, accepting Roa's wish to dispense with the "ma'am." At the request, she nods, "I don't mind, no. There's not much in there, to be honest. Just the news that I've been removed from my post, and various reasons listed. All very proper and vague, as the Hall is known to be at times. They apparently feel I violated the terms of my enforced leave by taking on a position with Sinopa, and therefore did not rest properly." All this is said with a rather bland tone of voice, without rancor, at least, nor any particular bitterness. "I have not been recalled to the Hall, nor reassigned, which is odd, I suppose."
The little weyrwoman picks up the letter, eyes flicking over the words. She gathers the news both from the text and from Vanya's critique of it. "Well," Roa muses idly, "no one could say working for a weyrwoman is relaxing." She chuckles softly and then looks over the letter a final time, before handing it back. "You have your knot, no posting, and no expectation to return to the Hall. And this is meant to be...punishment?" One brow arches upwards.
Vanya shrugs. "I make no pretense to explain what the Hall does or means to do," she says with a wry smirk. "I'm not even sure why they didn't immediately recall me and post me somewhere else, unless they feel I'm incompetent or somehow my skills are questionable." There's emotion behind those words. "And, oddly enough, I don't do well without something to occupy my mind. If I'm forced to be idle, I get restless and it drives me out of my mind with boredom. I found the work Sinopa had me do restful, since I'm good at handling records and doing research. That's ... just me, I guess." Another shrug. "Punishment or not, it means I cannot do the one thing I'm best trained to do, Roa. I'm a healer, but now...? Well, let's just say that my services aren't going to be needed in the Infirmary unless it's a dire emergency. I got that from my reception there."
The weyrwoman's head cants to the side, hands settling in her lap. "And now? You're still a healer. One not currently restricted by specific hours or tied to any particular place. You could..." Roa's eyes widen and her head shakes. "Do you know what you could do? Anything. I mean, truly, anything. You have a knot. Your skills are sanctioned by the hall. And you're free to find income on your own. The letter even says so." Long finger reach out to flick at the hide. "Pissing them off is possibly one of the luckiest breaks you could have gotten."
Vanya's forehead creases. "I did consider picking up a private practice with massage therapy," she admits. "I read that carefully, and didn't see anything in there that restricts me from doing that, but --" She moistens her lips. "I didn't want to risk upsetting anyone. Sinopa has told me I'm free to remain her assistant, and I will, but yes, you're right. It does give me a lot of freedom a posting doesn't offer." There's thought behind the words, and a little straightening of her shoulders. "I don't want to leave the weyr," she says bluntly. "It's become more of a home to me than Ruatha was. I have friends here that I care a great deal for, and ... all right, I know you and I haven't talked very often, but I don't have anything against you, Roa. I just want what's best for the weyr. I want to see High Reaches prosper, and people not be hurt anymore."
"Then stay," notes Roa simply. "I haven't a thing against you either, and if Neiran's bothered to talk with you, you're clearly intelligent. A massage practice could be a good thing. Faranth knows we have more riders than we have healers to keep their backs from curling into pretzels from all that taking off and landing we do. No to mention that threadscores can heal too tight, and with new injuries coming in, there's barely any time to do more than toss a cream or salve on the old ones. Plus, I mean, look, not everybody lives in a main hall or hold. How many cotholders live in High Reaches territory? That get access to a healer on circuit maybe...what...every couple months?"
All of this is listened to and, perhaps, more importantly heard. "I hadn't thought about that," she says softly. "The cotholds, I mean. That's very true, and ... yes, I could do that. I ride well, and if I had good maps, I could find the places, provided the snow's not too deep." She obviously means riding a runner, there. As for the rest. "I know a few people who wanted lessons in massage, and I planned to teach them. I just feel funny asking them for ... to pay me." And she looks down again. "It's awkward, but without a stipend, I would have to get paid somehow. Otherwise ..." She trails off. "And, I'm sure I'll have to move back into the dorms, since I was told private rooms were only for posted crafters. I'm not posted here anymore, and it's hard to lug around a massage table from weyr to weyr."
"Mmm, well, rooms are traditionally for posted crafters only. Free rooms, at any rate." One brow arches but Roa says nothing more on the subject. "I've been told there's a greenrider that needs some extra tasks to do. Perhaps I'll put him in contact with you, if you like." Roa tips her head down, fingertips studied. "Drop a word in the right ear, Vanya. Of your new and amazing services. All it takes is a little start and a few customers pleased with the results. As I said. Rumor travels fast."
There is quiet for a few minutes, then Vanya nods. "I know I have options, Roa. Sinopa and I talked earlier, and I realized that things aren't quite as hopeless as they seemed at first. I don't know how much a room would cost me, but I can ask. I don't sleep well in the dorms. Just ... too many people around." And then she, too, lets that subject drop. At mention of a greenrider, she cants her head to the side, curiosity in her expression, but she doesn't ask the obvious. "Right now, H'kon's keeping my table up in his weyr, so I know it's safe." A moment, and then she's asking something else. "Is it possible, do you know, that any of these ingredients would be harmful to dragons?" And she's standing up to fetch a journal, flipping open to a specific page with a recipe for liniment -- wintergreen, glycerine, mint and a few other herbs. "I know fellis is fatal to them, but I haven't learned enough to know of anything else."
"Well, there's not much dragons ingest, really, for medicinal purposes." Roa seems happy to launch into this topic. She reaches a hand out for the journal to peruse the list. "Nothing I see here would cause issues if applied topically. Numbweed can cause stomach upset if it's licked, not to mention they don't much like it when they lose feeling in their tongue." Her head tips to the other side.
A smile touches Vanya's lips at the last. "No, I don't imagine they would," she says. "This is decidedly a topical application. There's a dragon I've been working with who has an old injury that bothers him a bit. His rider and I were talking, and I ... well, I couldn't help but wonder if some of the long-term treatments and exercises I've recommended for human patients wouldn't help. His rider did tell me heat and a more up and down type of exercise eased stiffness caused by the cold, so ... I thought maybe some of the liniment oil I use for massage might not help a bit, too." She pauses, adding, "Not that I can really effectively massage the leg, but I can try. I do find dragon healing interesting and challenging."
"Well, you couldn't effectively massage with your hands," the little weyrwoman considers, "But I wonder if you couldn't devise something? We have brushes for oiling. We've come up with straps to ride them. Do you suppose coming up with a tool to exert pressure on a wide enough space would be possible?"
This is something Vanya has not considered, obviously, since her expression is, at first, a little blank. "I ... don't know," she says after a moment of thought. "It's certainly an idea worth considering. Perhaps ..." She lets her voice trail off for a few minutes. "I remember something ... just let me think a minute. Something I saw a while back in the records room at the hall. It was a type of roller. Not like the ones cooks use, but something like it. Hand held, but it could be moved over a particularly stiff area of the body, like this," she says, moving her hand back and forth. "It had several small, round wheels on axles that let them move over the skin, and it spoke of applying pressure." She shakes her head. "I'd have to go back to the Hall and see if I could find it, but something like that might work."
"And wonder of wonders, Vanya," Roa leans forward smirking, "You also actually have the time to -work- on such ideas, since you're under no obligation to take shifts in the infirmary." She chuckles faintly, and then leans back. "And it sounds like you also have a willing client to try a prototype out on."
"Yes, that's true, as well," Vanya admits, smiling. "As long as I can figure a way to manage until I can get paying clients, of course. If they turn me out tomorrow, well, that will certainly put a bit of a cramp in things." She chuckles, since the likelihood of her actually being forced out of the room into the cold is slim. "I will miss being in the Infirmary, though. I'm not going to deny that, Roa. And, I was very close to just handing back my knot, but I've worked so hard --" She stops. No, no use in going into that old bitterness. "I can but try." She nods again. "I should be able to rig up something. H'kon's very ingenious, and enjoys working with his hands. I can likely consult him and see what he can think of. And, Neiran may also have some ideas. His work on dragon healing is incredible. Have you seen his compilation?"
Roa nods. "You can but try. It's all any of us can do, really." Then mention that Vanya considered handing back her knot has Roa's head lifting and her eyes widening faintly. But she only presses her lips together and then presses on. "You've worked hard, and that work will serve you well. This in an opportunity, Vanya. Treat it as such and you'll be amazed."
"Yes, I've worked too hard for it to just give up, but the temptation is still there, Roa," Vanya says. "A woman has to work three times as hard for recognition in the crafts than any one man. If you knew how much harder I had to work to earn that knot than the /male/ Apprentices did --" Her own lips clamp down, and she takes a moment to compose herself. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't speak so." No, she shouldn't, but she can't stop from feeling it. "I've never ignored opportunities when they came my way, and I won't now. I make mistakes, but at least I /learn/ from them."
"Then it's worth it. And please," Roa shakes her head. "Do not think for an instant I am unaware of the challenges facing women in hall, hold, and weyr. No matter where you live, if you've got hips," the weyrwoman pauses to glance down at her own twig of a figure, "or are supposed to, at any rate, it's thought to affect what's between your ears. At least, in the crafthalls, they can't as easily marry you off."
There is a nod to this. "Yes, and if you go around spouting your opinions, your ideas, even just suggestions, then you're a radical," Vanya says, and the bitterness can't be disguised. "My own specialty is considered highly unorthodox, and I wonder if that's so much because it fell out of favor as it was proposed by a woman. A woman who would be putting her hands on men who aren't her husband!" She looks down at her hands. "I wish I could say that without feeling angry, but I can't. It's just not right, Roa. It's not. At least here in the weyr it's not so bad, and I was respected for what I could do. At least here I wasn't --" She stops again, and shakes her head. "I'm sorry. You're right. I'm not telling you anything you don't already know."
"Or anything I disagree with," Roa adds with a soft chuckle. "Talk to Tavaly if you ever have the time, or Issa, if you want to know what it's like to be a woman and a rider. Or talk to Essdara or Rysia, you want to know what it is to live here as a resident. It's better, but it's not..." instead of finishing the sentence, Roa only shrugs.
"There's no perfect place," Vanya agrees. "The weyr, most of the people I know here are reasonably happy, and I don't run into all the prejudice there is at the hall and holds, but it's still there, I know." She sighs a bit. "Thing is, it's a whole 'nother world here, and I wonder if that wasn't the problem I faced. The reason I made so many mistakes." She looks down at her hands. "At the hold, at the hall, there are rules that must be observed. It's a very restrictive society, and here -- well, things are looser. It's freer, and there are so many pitfalls you can stumble into if you're not used to that much ... freedom."
"But you know better, now. I'm sorry things turned out as they did. I wish it hadn't been so. Believe me, if only as someone who rides a gold dragon, I very much wish bronzeriders all met the standard they're supposed to. But." Roa's fingers lace together. "He let everybody down."
Vanya cants her head to the side once more. "Yes, he did," she says, smiling softly. "And it's so sad, that. He could have had it all if he hadn't cheated. I still ... I guess I still hope that someday he'll realize that, but I don't think he will. I'm sorry I blamed you for that, Roa. I was ... well, no one wants to think the person they love is guilty of such horrible things." She shakes her head. "I wasn't talking about just that, though. I made mistakes other than just E'sere, and the Hall doesn't like it when their representatives make mistakes or end up the subject of gossip." She's quiet a moment. "I know it doesn't make any difference, but I don't sleep around, Roa. I've only ever been with two men. Ever. Despite what the gossip says."
There is, now, a full on snicker. "Journeyman," the little weyrwoman murmurs with a smirk, "either you believe the rumors and assume those who haven't shared my bed are in the minority and hence what should I care who's been in yours, or you do not believe them and you know you speak to someone who might empathize with such a plight. Either way, you were right at the first. It doesn't matter, save to you. But it's duly noted that you're not as they say in that regard."
"I don't listen to gossip, or try not to," Vanya says, "and please, just call me Vanya. It's just us, and I had a name long before I had that title." She chuckles a little. "I haven't really paid a lot of attention at who's in who's bed, though it's a favorite topic of conversation around here." She shakes her head, chuckling again. "I've never been in a place where the gossip runs so rampant, and I guess I just want to have someone know the truth. That's important to me. Honesty. I'm not particularly ashamed of anything I've done, save that I'm embarrassed to have been so well taken for a ride by E'sere. I was ripe for the plucking, and he was shrewd enough to see that. But, life goes on, and the only thing I really regret is he wasn't the man I thought he was."
The smaller woman clears her throat softly, biting her inner cheek as her shoulders shake with poorly managed mirth. "I'm sorry. Forgive me. It's only...when talking of men and those you have or have not..." Roa clears her throat. "'Taken for a ride' and 'ripe for the plucking' are not terminology I'd suggest using when attempting to verify one's mostly unsoiled virtue." There is a bit more clearing of her throat and then the smile is finally tucked away. "At any rate, what I find is that those who know you will also know what is true. And those who do not are inclined to believe whatever is the most amusing." She shrugs. "You get accustomed to it. Or you flee in horror."
Well, even Vanya can see the humor in that. "Poorly chosen phrases, indeed. I'll remember that in the future. I suppose it comes from reading that romance novel I bought at the gather. Such flowery speech ...!" She shakes her head. "Never read any of them before, but I was bored." She chuckles. "I suppose what I said is better than weeping and wailing and saying I was deflowered." She smiles. "Well, I haven't fled in horror, although I did consider it once or twice. Problem with that is I'm not a coward. I might withdraw a little, but I'll never run away. I'm more likely to spout off stupid things when I'm not thinking straight." Ironic that, and her smile is wry.
"Deflowered," Roa shakes her head, rolling her eyes. "You know, when I was very little, I used to imagine that people had a daisy growing right here," her hand lifts, finger tapping to the center of her forehead, "and that eventually someone else comes along and yanks it out. I was very irritated, because, having no daisy on my forehead, I presumed I'd already been deflowered without my noticing. When I was sleeping as a baby, perhaps." Her head cants to the side. "You read romance novels on occasion? I'll admit then, that I do too, although the ones I enjoy the most have been written anonymously. More's the pity."
Vanya smiles. "I didn't even know what it meant until I was at Healer Hall," she admits, and then I was just starting my woman's courses, and was terrified I was dying. The Headwoman explained things to me, and used that term. I wasn't sure what it meant, but I knew I didn't have a flower growing /there/," she says. "And the next month, we began studying the human body, and reproduction and ... I was terrified of all that." She chuckles. "And, that's the first one I've ever read, and it's well-written, if somewhat flowery and impractical, at times. I've no idea who wrote it. There's no author listed." She sighs, smiling a little wryly. "I do wish the ones who write the novels wouldn't make it seem so much better than it can be in real life. I could love the man in the book, but he doesn't exist." She looks a little embarrassed now.
"Course he doesn't. And the story always ends once they find each other. As if finding the person is all the work there is. Faranth." Roa reaches her hands up to rub at her face. "Finding them is nothing compared to keeping them." Her arms again drop into her lap. "No author, hmm? You want to know my pet theory about the unnamed ones?" Roa leans forward a bit, as if about to impart a secret. "I think they're written by a woman, and it's the only way she can get them published."
"Possibly. Or, it's written by a man who's too embarrassed to let his name be associated with romance," Vanya says. "The former is quite likely, but, then, that theory isn't plausible since there are a few female romance writers who are, apparently, quite well known. Miniyal recommended several to me, whose writing is historically accurate, if flowery. I haven't read one yet, but plan to." She ponders this a moment. "No, I'm thinking it's a man who wants his identity hidden for whatever purpose. Maybe he's a Master Harper, or something, or maybe he's just someone who doesn't want his friends to make fun of him. Whichever it is, he's familiar enough with women, but there are aspects of the books which are decidedly from a masculine point of view."
"Mmm. Also possible, I suppose," the weyrwoman concedes after a moment. "Less interesting, though." Fingers tap tap tap on her knee for a moment, before Roa finally sighs and begins to stand. "I'd better head off. Thank you for letting me visit."
"Oh, I don't know," Vanya says to the "less interesting" comment. "I think it's rather /more/ interesting if it's a man. I mean, whoever he is, he obviously has a sense of humor and isn't afraid to let people see a softer side of men -- at least in books." She nods, then, when Roa mentions it's time to leave. "Thank you for visiting, Roa. It was appreciated, and I won't forget what we discussed. Life is full of opportunities, but it's easy to forget that when one door closes, another opens." She rises as well, and offers a smile. "Rest well, and my duty to Tialith. May you both find clear skies and smooth flying." She pauses a moment. "Thank you. What you did meant more than you know."
There is, for all of those words and kindness, only a nod and a faint smile from Roa. "Take care, Vanya." She opens the door and, with a final glance back at the other woman, slips out into the hall and on her way.
Vanya watches the small Weyrwoman leave, and remains standing for several minutes after the door closes. Then, with a smile, she gathers up her dirty dishes, and cleans up the table. For the first time in a couple of days, there's a smile -- a real smile -- on her face. Life does go on.