[Log] Crime and Punishment, Pt. 2
Who: Aida, Br'ce, E'sere, Essdara, Ginella, Issa, J'cor, Kianda, Medina, Tavaly, T'ral, T'zen, Yevide
When: Day 16, Month 3, Turn 2, 7th Pass
Where: Southern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr
What: After the illicit Nabol 'Fall, the riders return to face the music.
Notes: Find Pt. 1 here.
Yevide also replies to T'zen's query, her response comprised of a brief, wordless smile. Not as warm as it might be, but the corners of her eyes crinkle briefly before it's erased once more. She notes T'ral and Br'ce as they rejoin the pack, notes other riders as they finish inspecting injuries, or loosening straps. Then, of course, she notes T'zen's imminent departure. Even this doesn't draw a comment forth from her; she simply lifts her chin again to track him as he turns away, one hand coming up to rest on J'cor's shoulder.
"You run your mouth quite often for someone who supposedly just flies." Br'ce retorts, sotto voce. "We're talking to him because we're going to need to sooner or later. And I'd much rather we face him, rather than have him feel like he needs to track us down. It's the mature thing to do." Plus it might get them brownie points of some kind. A few less demerits, at least? Do riders even get demerits? "Wingleader, sir. Weyrwoman, ma'am." he greets as the pair shoulders their way to the frount of their pack, in even stiffer, more formal language than he normally employs. A quick look of disgust for T'zen's casual boisterousness is spared, then squished under an aggressively blank facial expression. "No deaths or major injuries, sir, we had several dragons with minor Threadscore--" Br'ce rattles off the numbers, expanding just a trifle on T'zen's report and disdaining to acknowledge the question of food.
Aida lifts an eyebrow. "Shouldn't be on it, but you know that. I'll see you later." She eyes Dara's foot, then claps her on the shoulder and turns to offer a friendly grin and a wink to Kianda before she heads for...wait, Ginella's not there any longer. It takes her a moment of hunting, but her course is soon adjusted properly. She moves to plant herself at the woman's side, bringing her arms up to cross them over her chest and this time, openly sets her attention on the bigger picture of what's going on.
Okay. There's a lot a girl can take, and then there's T'zen. It seems that Tav's T'zenometer has officially burst. There's an offswitch somewhere in her brain, and.. oop, there it goes. THUD. Tav is down for the count, thanks to sanity and its need for preservation. Yes, the weyrling has fainted. Immath seems, overall, unconcerned. The green merely warbles momentarily at her downed rider and gives what could conceivably called a sigh of resignation. A pair of healers dutifully step over and drag the girl off to somewhere less bomb-targeted.
Essdara has turned and is hobbling away towards the caverns, so thankfully misses the fainting of the greenrider.
T'ral limits himself to a brief greeting, one large hand coming up in a flawless salute for Weyrleader and Weyrwoman. "Sir, ma'am." Fewer words, less trouble? The former Bendenite's got his jaw set, his shoulders squared, and his gaze directed at some indeterminate point on the horizon as he listens to his friend's report.
There's a brief cheer in answer to T'zen's words, coming from a group of 2C riders in the back. E'sere only cocks a brief smile in return, tipping his head toward Issa in acknowledgement of her own quiet words in answer. "You've earned a good meal," E'sere agrees aloud with T'zen. "Go tell Moiret in the kitchens we're home; she'll feed you right." However, he doesn't look to the living cavern or his riders--well, until Tavaly tumples over. Then, wryly, the wingleader adds to T'zen, "And it looks like our weyrling could use some sustenance as well."
Medina sees Tavaly's faint. Movement jolts her slight frame, and she starts to move toward the greenrider, but sees two other healers reach her first, one a Master. Her movement has brought her closer into the group, and yet further away from Aida. All in all, a good place to be, and she maintains it.
J'cor raises his brows at T'zen. "I don't mean to keep you from your dinner, T'zen, but I would appreciate your continued presence here." He steps heavily on the word 'appreciate' - most likely he'd more than appreciate it, but he makes no move to stop T'zen. "And perhaps you would as well," he adds, with a little less ring in his tone. He ignores E'sere to look over at Br'ce, listening intently to his report on the numbers and nodding once he's finished. "Thank you - it's Br'ce, isn't it?" Whatever else he was about to say is interrupted by Tavaly's fall, and he narrows his eyes as he watches her hauled away. "And then again, T'zen, perhaps you would prefer to explain that to me."
Ginella only slowly turns her head to take in Aida's presence and the girl's similar pose, then turns back to watch the riders and the 'leaders. She doesn't say anything for a while, doesn't even really acknowledge Aida as such, though finally she manages a tight: "Did /you/ know about this?" The emphasis implies that she did not.
What? Tavaly? Surprised, Issa's eyes fall to the now-prone greenrider that used to be standing next to her. Hesitantly she makes as if to move to help, but the healers have already monopolized that aspect of the situation. She watches their progress for a moment, concern filling her gaze until she's sure that they have things under control. And she then goes back to flinging silent, stony glances across at the Weyrleaders. There's no indication that she intends on following those who make to trail toward the living caverns. She's still waiting for the other boot to fall and she'll stand her until it does. She hasn't missed the obvious overlooking of E'sere, picking out the power struggle from the little gestures, and she holds firm her solid presence on this side of it.
T'zen was wondering when J'cor would say /anything/ that suggested he meant to deal with them as a group, and the sly smirk on his face when the request to stay comes reveals it. But that's followed shortly after by a pout, "I /am/ hungry you know," he mutters, and then he notes the commotion behind him, and blinks. "Tav?!" He quickly trots over, making a nuisance of himself with the healers. "Shardin' girl. She said she slept last night." Two reasons now to stay his trip for food, T'zen merely follows the healers back to the shade where they've taken Tavaly, and it's clear enough there's little more concern about it. With him no longer leading the way, perhaps the others are thinking twice about venturing away themselves.
Kianda winces a bit at the faint, but with healers on hand, she can repress her natural instinct and turn her attention back to the goings-on. Which doesn't mean she misses Ginella's tight question, and the young seamstress moves quietly to stand behind Aida, a little to the side, in a position of subtle support.
Br'ce spares a glance behind him at the thud, and a look of more pointed disgust crosses his face. "That's what you get for showing off, Tavaly..." he mutters under his breath. "Yes, sir. Rider of brown Trellazoth." he clarifies even further for J'cor, standing attentively and waiting for any further requests for information. E'sere does get a reproving frown, though--as the man in charge of this, he really should be the one up here volunteering details--a frown that is directed in more fierce form towards those who would slink off. Or faint. Hmph. Cowards.
Sooner or later, the Weyrleader will have to notice E'sere, certainly; but it seems the wingleader is in no hurry to bring on that moment. Instead, he goes about his business, finally letting J'tral the dragonhealer take a look at Morelenth. E'sere watches in silence while numbweed is dabbed along the bronze's muzzle, lips pursing briefly before he glances backward again. Noting Br'ce's look then, he offers the brownrider a quick smile and a gesture to go ahead, since the Weyrleader seems determined to ignore him for the time being.
Aida seems entirely content to maintain the silence for as long as Ginella does; maybe she's just decided there's strength in numbers, even if she doesn't look *visibly* angry. The tight question has her giving a short shake of her head. "No idea," she replies, voice low. "Not even so much as a hint." Catching sight of Kianda, she turns her head enough to give a nod and then a twitch of her head, a subtle gesture for her to stand beside rather than behind.
Ginella gives another stiff nod at Aida's response, her anger not meant for her, it seems. "Me neither. I'm surprised at Br'ce. I would've thought he'd tell," she replies, tighter tone, same volume. "I imagine T'ral dragged him into this. I'm sorry for that. I should have guessed he was up to something." She shakes her head, jaw clenching again as she eyes the riders.
Kianda steps up beside Aida with the faintest of smiles to accompany her own nod. "Looks like Br'ce is well aware that he makes his own decisions. I can't quite imagine him getting 'dragged' into anything."
Yevide steps back from J'cor to get a better view around him as Tavaly makes her exit, her lips pressing together in something that approaches dismay. "A weyrling," she murmurs, her low alto bereft of usual warmth. Approaching, indeed, something like displeasure. For now, this is the limit of her contribution; she watches until Tavaly is removed by the healers, and then returns her attention to the situation at hand. E'sere is now the focus of those bright blue eyes, the Weyrwoman looking past the nearby blue and brownriders to settle her gaze on the bronzerider where he stands.
Medina , regretting her exposed, and lonely position, circles around the group, to stand with Ginella and Kianda. And Aida. A small smile graces her face, as she catches Ginella's last comment. She nods towards the Weyrleaders, who very obviously have /not/ exploded in anger. "Maybe he did?"
Morelenth> To Trellazoth: Morelenth notes, amused, << They will not recognize my rider and his part, because to do so weakens them. Yours should direct them to mine, so they have no choice but to. My rider will take the blame--yours does not have to. >>
T'ral apparently has a whole repetoire of thumps and punches for Br'ce, and he uses another of them now, shifting from his upright posture to treat his fellow brownrider to an elbow in the ribs. That, to judge by the timing, was for the dig about Tavaly. When Br'ce volunteers his details, T'ral is obliged to follow, raising his voice slightly to offer his name and position. "T'ral, sir, brown Darageth's. 1C." Not 2C -- E'sere has gone further afield than his own wing for this adventure.
Aida actually chuckles at Kianda's words, though there's no amusement there. It's a dark chuckle. "I can," she says simply. There's a solid nod towards Medina; acknowledgment and greeting, and then she's turning her had back so she can speak quietly to Ginella again. "I'm surprised, as well. I don't think either of us could have expected it to know what to look for. No need to be sorry."
Morelenth> Trellazoth shapes fond exasperation, the creaking of wood and ropes twining in his voice. << It is not in my rider's nature to shift the blame to others. He has a perverse fondness for being blamed. I will suggest it, however. Perhaps I can phrase it... >>
Morelenth> To Trellazoth: Morelenth agrees, << Mine doesn't wish you and the others to suffer on his account. Yours has done nothing to be blamed for, certainly. >>
Kianda nods to Medina, welcoming her to the little group. "Really?" She lifts an eyebrow at Aida's comment, and peers dubiously toward Br'ce. "Well, he's faking it well then."
Ginella shakes her head at Kianda. "You would if you knew them," she says, tone similar to Aida's. Medina's arrival draws a glance of acknowledgement, a faint nod, and then she shakes her head again at Aida. "I can see it now," she replies, "And I'm not even surprised. Idiots, the pair of them. That's why they're here to begin with. I'm going to /kill/ him."
Issa is not so approving as E'sere is of Br'ce's actions. She lets it be known, too, a small frown etched between her brows as she passes her gaze just to the side of the Weyrleaders to land on that brownrider. But her disapproval passes quickly from her face in favor of something much more tranquil and composed as she peers over E'sere's shoulder at Yevide. Steadily assessing the goldrider's reactions, a calm sort of challenge seeps through her neutral features. A small smile appears. Say something.
J'cor snaps his attention back to Br'ce, allowing T'zen to retreat under the shade with Tavaly. There are several requests he could make at this point - what type of Fall was it, how much Thread got through, take me to your leader - but he asks none of them. "Br'ce - T'ral." He repeats the names simply by way of acknowledgement, making none of his usual pretense at having to learn them. Not even the revelation of T'ral's wing seems to surprise the Weyrleader. He pauses, glancing at Karth. The bronze lets the rest of his statue pose crumble away, raising his neck up high and exhaling a loud, sharp breath as he surveys the dragons and riders in front of him. As Karth remains poised that way, J'cor pushes his own voice up in volume, saying, "I imagine you are all tired and hungry, and so I will not keep you overlong. You know what you did today; I need not remind you. I imagine you have thought through the repercussions, as well." Here he pauses as he sweeps his gaze over the assembly, raising his eyebrows - you /did/ think of the repercussions, did you not? "From me, you can expect an extra set of duties - nothing that will interfere with your regular wing. Extra turns as a watchrider, say; ferrying goods and people about as requested. When you are not engaged in these extra duties, you will be confined to your weyrs. You will be allowed to visit the baths, and to eat at the Living Cavern. However, you may not loiter in other areas." A frown, a slight cant of his head towards Yevide, so he can see her better from the corner of his eye. "You may have visitors, as you desire, but no more than two at a time. I trust you can monitor yourselves in this respect, and I need not babysit any of you."
Aida gives one of those slow nods of agreement that just goes on and on to Ginella's words of doom. Oh yes. There will be killing. She chuckles again and glances sidelong over to Kianda, confirming with a quiet, "Really." That's it; she turns to start to speak again to Ginella, but then J'cor is speaking and she is shutting right up, her attention jerking and focusing fully that way. When he's finished speaking, she gives one of those little self-directed nods. "Mmm." That's probably for Ginella's benefit, given her glance back that-a-way.
T'zen crouches beside the prone greenrider, as the healers pause to due a cursory check of vitals and decide where to take her from there. For anyone bothering to watch, as they are out of the way of the real show, the bravado in the bluerider fades as he strokes the weyrling's hair, ignoring the bowl for the moment. Eventually, a gurney is brought out, and Tavaly set on, and taken to the infirmary till she awakes. T'zen, more reluctantly now, stands and retraces his steps back to the group. He's all ears for the Weyrleader now, his face now impassive. Finally, one response. "Hmph."
E'sere, though he's the subject of that look from Yevide, ignores it, remaining focused on the last of Morelenth's tending before he turns back to another rider, exchanging the same pleasantries with him as he has with the others. And so it continues, neither side willing to acknowledge the other, but E'sere definitely more amused as he directs another brief, mostly curious look toward Br'ce and J'cor. "Will you punish them for only doing as they were asked, Weyrleader?" he drawls a question, arching a brow. And so it begins.
Kianda glances toward Ginella, a little perturbed. But considering the earlier conversation between the Benden goldrider and Essdara, Kia decides not to comment. Her gaze following Aida's attention back to the Weyrleader, she ends up frowning, shifting uneasily.
A slight shrug indicates Br'ce's willingness to comply with E'sere's go-ahead. He has no objection to being front-runner. Especially since he's, so far, blissfully unaware that Aida is in the crowd. Or else he'd probably be hiding behind Tiv's bulk in as subtle and non-cowardly manner as it is possible to hide. "Yes, sir. I believe we are all fully cognizant of the repercussions." A slight emphasis on the last word imbues it with several levels of meaning. "I am willing to fulfill any extra duties as required, and I believe that all of us who participated will do so in good faith." He pauses for a moment, glancing back at E'sere, with a raised brow, not quite understanding what tack the bronzer is taking. "But if I may, sir, will you make provisions for flying further falls over Nabol in the future?"
Ginella watches and listens intently as J'cor pronounces sentence, and actually relaxes, eyes closing for a moment when he seems done. "Thank Faranth," she murmurs, glancing at Aida again. "He's still dead, the moron. But thank Faranth all the same. That could have been so much worse." She runs a quick hand through her hair, then crosses it back across her chest, waiting for them to be dismissed.
T'ral has come full circle, right back to that square-jawed, stony expression he was wearing when his feet first hit the ground. E'sere might question, but T'ral does not. His head turns toward E'sere as the man he chose to follow fires off that question, but there's no visible response by way of a change of expression. Like Ginella -- like several others, to judge by expressions -- T'ral apparently considers himself to have got off lightly. Certainly, he's not pushing his luck. He only nods, and drops his gaze to the ground.
Finally. Whatever silent darts Issa was attempting to send flying Yevide's way, they are abandoned as the Weyrleader delivers down his judgement on the rogue riders. She listens with a still even semblance, seemingly unruffled by the terms of the punishment. And then her attention flies to E'sere's words, eyebrows perking, stubborn silence still maintained. Yeah. What he said.
Aida lets her own breath of relief out at Ginella's reaction, and again nods her agreement. Her stance starts to relax, and then she catches Br'ce's last question to the Weyrleader. Eyes close, expression tightens, she spends a few moments in silence, and then she opens her eyes again and gives a little huff. "It may yet get worse," she points out lowly, voice dry. "I don't think this is over."
Kianda stiffens, intaking a quick breath at hearing Br'ce as well, and her gaze swivels toward J'cor, her eyes very, very intense indeed.
The Weyrwoman lifts her chin to eye Issa for a moment; the only female rider now in Yevide's line of sight is subjected to almost a full minute's inspection before Yevide allows her gaze to range over the group at large. E'sere's question does not earn him a glance, but Br'ce's does. Finally, having ceded the floor to J'cor for so long, the Weyrwoman does speak, her low alto firm, it still lacking its usual warmth. "Our response to future falls will be decided by the Weyrleader. Ulyath will reinforce that order, if necessary."
Ginella lifts one shoulder in a shrug at Aida. "I hope it is," she replies, tensely. "They've made their point." Whether she means the riders or the Weyrleaders isn't clear, and she doesn't offer clarification.
J'cor hears E'sere's words, no question, but he holds up a hand to stay them for a bit. As Br'ce is closer - and the person he was talking to, before - the brownrider must be answered first. His head cant towards Yevide straightens up and he gives a short nod. "Nabol's coverage is the concern of the weyr that receives its tithes. That is at its Lord's disposition." His focus moves from the one brownrider to the other, looking at T'ral before following the other man's gaze to E'sere. "They were not asked," he says simply. Karth finally settles down from his stiff pose, with a faint rustle of wings as he readjusts them.
T'zen's slow return finds himself near E'sere and Issa again, and murmurs in a voice likely only the the pair can hear, though it's directed at Issa. "Well, here we are, eh?"
Aida uncrosses her arms only to recross them, shifting her stance just enough to chase away the discomfort that comes from standing coiled up for too long. There's a nod of agreement to Ginella's words yet again. "As do I." Now? She's watching Br'ce.
Yevide's words earn only arched brows from E'sere, the wingleader not replying to her any more than she watches him. "Our senior will enforce it," he repeats musingly, mostly to himself, as he glances back to J'cor. "I asked them," he replies. "You told me, in your office, that you'd not make my riders suffer on my behalf. These--" he gestures around, encompassing all the riders there with him "--these are my riders. If you feel compelled to punish someone, perhaps you should confine that punishment to the one responsible. I conceived the idea; I organized the riders; I led the 'Fall." Ch'dais' part in the beginnings of the plot is downplayed, E'sere not fingering anyone else in the plot. He spreads his arms after a moment, as if to ask, 'and what will you do about it?'
Hearing the answers from both Weyrleader and Weyrwoman, for a moment Kianda lets her face twist into something akin to, though not quite fully formed, hatred. In a swirl of skirts, she turns on her heel and stalks away, hands in fists at her side.
Issa turns her head, just slightly, taking in T'zen with a peripheral glance. "Here we are," she agrees, murmuring, "Guess I'll be seeing you in the baths." She jokes, her mouth quirking up from that rigid line it once was. E'sere's explanation warrants another raising of her eyebrows, however, and that slip of a smile falls away again.
"They are not your riders," J'cor replies, again simple. Does he need to make it any more clear? Perhaps he does, for after a moment, he continues. "If Weyrleader G'mal has any objections to your role in this affair, E'sere, I will leave it to him to relay them. You, of course, will not be asked to carry on duties which are not yours, nor to remain in your weyr unless so requested by your Weyrleader." J'cor remains calm, but Karth's eyes start whirling a little faster, their blue color becoming sky-bright.
A brief spasm of anger crosses Br'ce's face at J'cor's reply as he bites down on his initial response. And his second and third responses, too. "We have a duty to those people, sir. A duty we cannot abrogate, despite their negligence. They have no choice in the matter anymore." he says in calm, relatively reasoned tones. "The weyrlings especially, sir, should not have this held excessively against them. They were asked by older and more experienced riders whom they have been taught to look up to and emulate, sir. It is our responsibility for leading them into this, not theirs for following." he says sturdily, attempting to take some of the fire from E'sere. However unwanted that cover fire may be.
Yevide lifts her chin as E'sere speaks, pressing her lips together in something not unakin to derision. J'cor's correction -- that the riders before them do not belong to E'sere, is met with a firm nod on the Weyrwoman's part. She saves her words, however, for Br'ce, a sterner note running through that low alto that's usually so warm. "There is no honour," she informs the brownrider, lifting her gaze to include T'ral beside him in her admonition, "in leading weyrlings into danger." Her gaze lingers for a moment, as though to press home her point, and then she looks away; a survey of the rest of the group follows, to gauge their reaction to their pending confinement.
T'zen folds his arms, nodding silently at Issa's half-joke. As he sees it as a half-truth, considering. He then regards E'sere with raised brows. "Well, I don't need E'sere coverin' my hide." He gets distracted for a moment, looking behind him at his apparently still snoozing blue, and when he looks forward again, there's a mix of emotion on his face, and he about hisses, "When in Faranth's name did Diya take flight?!" Again, not loud enough but for immediate company.
T'ral keeps right on with the carefully neutral face, gaze aimed somewhere past J'cor's left ear. At the news that E'sere will escape the punishment the rest of the pulled-together wing is to suffer, there's a tightening of the muscles around his jaw, but nothing more. Perhaps because Br'ce is speaking, and requires adult supervision. Now, /now/ his friend decides to defend Tavaly? One big foot comes up, shifts sideways, and then presses slowly but firmly down on top of Br'ce's. Yevide's words bring up a faint flush under his freckles.
"They flew for me today," continues E'sere, calmly, lifting one hand at Br'ce's words. "Perhaps G'mal will be more willing to listen to the opinions of his wingleader concerning Nabol, should Fort decline to step up in High Reaches' negligence. I will be certain to speak to him on the matter tomorrow morning, when my transfer is completed. The weyrlings were not asked," he adds, fixing Yevide with a look. "Tavaly came of her own free will, because she, as everyone else here, was not willing to abandon the duty she accepted when she impressed. Those orders were to kill people, to destroy their lives indiscriminately. If you wish to punish people for simply doing their duty--for having a heart for the people whose leaders have abandoned them to Thread, Weyr and Hold alike--so be it. Our consciences will remain clear," he announces, voice raised enough to carry through the group of riders and onlookers alike.
Aida inhales sharply at Br'ce's words, holding her breath for several heartbeats before she brings one hand up to rub at her forehead with her fingers. She shifts on her feet, turning away from the scene to instead face Ginella, as if perhaps *she* can stop the unfolding scene. Her hand drops from her face, her frustration clear. "I can't believe this," she points out, her own voice now tightly controlled. "What does he think he's doing?" Yeah, because she really expects the other woman to be able to answer that.
Issa lets out a seething breath, directing the hiss of loathing at the Weyrleader, her eyes tacking him with an intense glare. She should have seen that coming. Her mouth works over the detail being pointed out to them, her jaw clenching and weakening the facade of neutrality that covers her face. "I don't want him to either, but shards that was a dirty move," she mutters T'zen, turning her head to view him fully as his next question takes her by surprise. "Diya? A few days ago..." Issa knows more than she lets on, but, well, she's not letting on. But then... what's this? "Transfer completed?" she utters with disbelief creeping in. "Tomorrow morning?"
Dragon> Morelenth's mental touch is fiercely amused, the bronze reaching out to declare, with confidence, << My rider regrets yours' punishment. But, whatever orders Ulyath tries to impress on you, I will speak to Nenuith, and ask her to rescind. /Our/ senior will defend us. >>
Br'ce grits his teeth and bows his head as the justice of Yevide's statement hits home. "You are entirely correct, ma'am." he rasps in hoarse voice, silent for a moment. But only for a moment. "But there is less in allowing the helpless to suffer for the politics of others. Sometimes there is no truly honorable option." he says softly, grimacing, speaking to Yevide and Yevide alone. She's managed to get his full attention, though not his eye contact. His foot (and T'ral's) gets the attention. He grits his teeth in pain, elbowing T'ral back /hard/ in the ribs. "Tavaly didn't know better." he contradicts E'sere sharply. "She's still just a kid. She can hardly be held to the same standards as those of us with more years and more experience and more settled characters." The rest of E'sere's words earn the rider a scowl, though Br'ce merely folds his arms in a firm nonverbal way of disagreeing with the bronzerider's stated position, taking a step back, both physically and metaphorically. "And how much honor can a leader claim when he knows he will escape punishment when his subordinates will not?" This question is muttered under his breath, not directly to anyone, but loud enough to be heard. Honor, honor, honor.
Ginella shakes her head at Aida. "He's being Br'ce," she replies, as if it's obvious. "This is what he does. He's a good man." She runs a hand over her hair, and suddenly shakes her head again. "I'm sorry, but this is interminable. I'm going to go wait elsewhere for the 'conquering heros' to be dismissed." Her voice twists angrily, but she tipts Aida a sympathetic nod before striding off.
J'cor, listening to Yevide's reply for Br'ce, is watching T'zen. He sees, therefore, that mixed expression on the other man's face, but cannot hear the words to go with it, so his attention does not linger long. His Weyrwoman can handle that one, while he concentrates on E'sere. "Perhaps he will listen, I cannot say. In the meantime, however, my decision stands. Being so responsibly-minded, I have no doubts that those who flew today will carry on their new duties, and observe their new restrictions, as they have been asked." And he raises a brow, stopping here: as /you/ have not.
Aida starts to protest once, twice, gives up. She just shakes her head at the apology, flashing a brief, tight smile. "I'll see you later," she answers simply, then shifts back on her feet to regard the scene again, back to watching with her arms crossed.
Morelenth> Trellazoth trumpets back with equally suave confidence. << We need none to defend us, nor rescind in our favor. We will prevail, for the rightness of our cause cannot be doubted. Our noble struggle will not be in vain. >> A brief pause. << That would be appreciated, though. Thank you. >>
Dragon> In triumphant return, Immath's own voice chimes brightly, << Dragons fly Thread. Always. >>
Morelenth> To Trellazoth: Morelenth, his rider noting Br'ce's ongoing displeasure, if not his exact words, notes on behalf of E'sere, << If your rider takes issue with mine, this is not the place to air it. We should be united in front of /them/. >> He doesn't even bother offering images of J'cor and Yevide. << My rider will speak to yours later on the matter. >>
Morelenth> Weaker than her normal touch, Oshisyth responds with a tighter connection, her voice coming through as if whispered from a close proximity. <> A brief void is acknowledged then, of Diya's absence from the Weyr. Then a separate train of thought, louder and with an inkling of her rider's demand for information. <>
Is the tide turning amongst some of the riders? Br'ce's final question earns a soft growl of agreement from T'ral, the bulky brownrider shifting to fold his arms across his chest, turning his gaze back to E'sere for a moment. "Mmmmm." He pulls himself up short of voicing an opinion on the subject, straightening slightly to turn his regard toward J'cor. "Dismissed, sir? Darageth's scored, I want him up in his couch." There's a measure of obedience in his tone, however, gaze down.
"Shards," comes T'zen uttering of disbelief, and it's loud enough to be heard by those who want to. "Can't believe it. Why?" He looks over at E'sere. Transfer is no surprise to him. It was coming sometime. And then back to the weyrleader, missing the look that was fastened on him. "Seems I've been told what he wanted me to hear. I'm headed to the living cavern, which I think was still allowed." He steps away from the group, starting for the caverns once again. Uneth, meanwhile, is now awake, looking up and trumpeting a brief note towards Morelenth, eyes whirling a fierce green. And a warble for the nearby green Immath in turn.
Morelenth> Trellazoth gives the draconic mental equivalent of a snort. << What is right is right. We will speak of this later. >>
Morelenth> To Oshisyth: Morelenth admits, << We guess where she has gone. There is only one place, no? >> A pause. << It seems so. I do not know. We must wait and see now. >> He seems unhappy at the thought, his voice darkening.
Morelenth> To Trellazoth: Morelenth's promise is solemn: << We will. >>
Immath takes the moment to stalk forward, toward the bronze Morelenth, head inclined in a questioning degree. A look towards Karth. Snort. She seats herself near Uneth and returns the warble, in kind.
Medina notes the slow trickling away of the group that she was part of. Four, then three, then two. She smiles at Aida, trying to bridge a gap. "They did the right thing at Nabol. That brownrider, he does the right thing now." Her voice is pitched low.
"I... she didn't tell me why." There's a reluctant specificity in Issa's answer for T'zen, but she smiles the smile of someone who truly does not know, offering a slight shrug to go along with it. "Go, go eat," she then urges the bluerider, "I'll join you later, most likely."
Yevide is certainly watching T'zen, drawing a slow breath in through her broad nose; she, perhaps, can overhear the bluerider's part of the conversation, but she declines to respond to his questions. Rather, she addresses his intention, as he begins to turn away. "And then, your weyr," she replies, for all that the words were not addressed to her her; her low alto it pitched to carry, although not firmed in command. The assumption that the Weyrleader's dictate will be obeyed is a part of this, surely. More interested is she in those riders beginning to express dissatisfaction at their temporary Wingleader's escape from discipline.
Aida glances sidelong over at Medina, arching an eyebrow at her. "Perhaps," she answers, tone shifting to something mild. Noncommittal. "Time will tell." There's a moment spent in study of Yevide, and then her eyes go back to Br'ce and T'ral.
Dragon> Morelenth's voice grows dark, ominous sentiments aimed at Yevide and J'cor. << They seek to separate us, but do not let them. My rider would gladly suffer the same punishment yours do, but they will not let him. He would take everything, if he could, but they do not want that. They wish you to be angry with him, to blame us, when there is no need for any punishment at all. We do right--we fly Thread wherever it falls, and pay no heed to their politics. >>
Karth catches the look, turning his head just slightly to regard Immath. That impassive look is his only response, however; as the other dragons trade noises, Karth remains quiet and still. His rider lowers his gaze from E'sere to T'ral, opting not to pay attention to the rib-nudging exchanged between him and Br'ce as he offers a dignified nod. "Of course," he murmurs, "excuse me." Raising his voice for the crowd's sake, he answers "Dismissed."
"We will carry out our /duties/ as ordered." Br'ce answers firmly, looking around at the other riders to quell any potential dissent, as well as adding in some extra emphasis on what he feels to be the important part. Note: J'cor did not expressly forbid them to go fly Thread again. Br'ce is counting on that. A sudden look of worry crosses his face at T'ral's first spoken words in a while; worry that makes him bite down his other concerns in favor of airing them at a later date. Treat the wounds, first, argue with authority later. In any case, he's gotten all the assurances he can really expect at this point. A quick frown in the direction of E'sere and he reassembles his face into a blank mask of attention, awaiting the orders of his weyrleader. "Sir." Acknowledged and dismissed, he tries for a fast getaway with T'ral.
Morelenth inclines his head toward Immath and Uneth at their recognition, crooning a low note to the pair. E'sere, however, remains standing still, observing the two Weyrleaders with an unreadable expression, as earlier. After a second, on the heels of J'cor's words, he nods toward the riders, a dismissal of his own, and one that his own wingmembers were in large part watching for more than J'cor's. The group starts to break up, those on the fringes slipping away, others jaunty in their victory as they head toward the living cavern. E'sere remains, among a few other die-hards.
Morelenth> An emotion that couldn't be further from anger is the answer from Oshisyth. And some sense that her rider is in complete agreement. <> Then, <> The lingering dolor over expected long days cooped up in the weyr hints that they don't exactly agree so much on that front.
Upon hearing the final 'dismissed' from J'cor, Aida sends a brief, thin smile to Medina and promptly abandons the spot where she was standing, striding right in the direction of Br'ce and T'ral. "Br'ce!" Her voice is most certainly pitched to carry.
T'zen is already on his way to the caverns by the time the dismissal is sounded. He does catch Yevide's words, and says back with a grin. "My weyr. Certainly. Anything to be of service to Igen." He chuckles, not waiting for a response, continuing on.
T'ral's head comes up as J'cor dismisses them, and Aida hails the other man. A tight, humourless smile is offered to his friend, along with one final punch in the shoulder, and he begins to move away. "Good luck, man." With that final rejoinder, and a tilted salute towards Aida as he passes, he's making his way back to Darageth, and thence home. Confinement begins.
Morelenth> To Oshisyth: Morelenth agrees, << We flew well. We will fly well in the future as well. We will not fly for Igen, though. >> Either the Weyr or its embassy at High Reaches, his disgusted tone declares. << We will leave many things, I expect, if we should be sent away. Nenuith... >> The gold's name is said thoughtfully, as though an idea were just taking shape in his and his rider's mind.
There's a smaller cadre of riders who don't look to E'sere for guidance. Br'ce and T'ral are prominent among their ranks. Already starting to move away, he ignores E'sere and his gang and turns his head towards the sudden sound of his name. "Aida? Gurk." A choked sort of noise escapes him, eyes opening in the panic that never came out when facing down authority. "T'ral. Tiv!" Br'ce calls after his putative 'friend'. Damn. Closing his eyes for a moment, he takes a deep breath to gather his composure and puts a slight smile on his faice. "Aida. I, uh--how long have you been here?" he asks nervously, halting a few steps away.
Medina looks almost startled at the conclusion. Watches Aida walk away, then moves herself. Off to the infirmary, check on that Greenrider, then to home. It is well past the end of her shift there. She wanders slowly, lost in thought.
Issa doesn't so much as flinch until she sees E'sere's nod. There's no question where her loyalties lie in this encounter. When she does move, she doesn't head toward the living cavern as many do. Instead, she meanders across the small distance to her green, opening her arms to accept the lowering muzzle into a caressing comfort. The tiny human nose touches the dragon's muzzle softly, and the rider heaves a sigh and briefly closes her pale eyes. When they open again, they drift over to Yevide pointedly, her face drawn into a tired countenance.
Yevide stands quietly, her fingers raised once more to tuck her curls inside her scarf,where the wind threatens to whip them free. As the heroes of the hour peel away towards meals, baths or even bed, the Weyrwoman stands with her chin lifted, watching the departures down the length of her broad, flat nose.
March march march. Aida draws up herself when he does, bringing her arms up to cross them over her chest again. There's no glaring; as a matter of fact, the look that she fixes on him is mild. Probably far too mild, really. "Long enough," she tells him, lifting one eyebrow inquisitively. "I heard the bulk of it." Beat. "Neither of you are hurt?" Absent entirely right now is the usual perky cheer, the excess of energy.
Oh, what a gathering of strength one would see if looking at Issa in just the right moment. The greenrider draws herself straighter, covering the tip of Oshisyth's muzzle with a slew of minor soothing pats. Rolling her neck to alleviate the tension mounting in those muscles, she then turns away from her dragon once again, the arc of her path leading her this time to the goldrider. "Weyrwoman," she speaks, nothing but a terribly even civility in her voice, a request for attention more than a greeting.
Thump, thump, thump. That's the sound of a brown dragon stealthily creeping up behind Br'ce, in a not-so-subtle fashion. Trellazoth nudges Br'ce in the back gently. "Ahem. We are quite healthy. Completely unharmed. No losses in this flight, or major injuries, either." he says, with some small degree of satisfaction. He's quite relieved by how well she seems to be taking it. "The important bit is that Nabol was covered, and none of us are seriously hurt. The rest can be sorted out later." he says optimistically. "Though I shouldn't be out here for very long." is added apologetically. "We're confined to quarters except for duties, eating, and bathing."
Yevide was not looking to Issa; perhaps she should have been, that she might have had warning. Instead, she was watching Br'ce and Aida where they stand in conversation, expression unreadable. Her attention is summoned by her title, however, and she turns first her head and then her entire body towards Issa, lips curving to a smile that's part warmth, part maternal reproach. "Issa," she murmurs. "Oshisyth is well?"
Flicking her eyes to Trellazoth, Aida actually gifts the dragon with a much warmer smile than she's bothering with for his rider. It fades when her gaze snaps back, and she studies Br'ce for a moment before she gives a dip of her head. "We'll speak later, then," she tells him quietly. "I'm displeased." No kidding. "But that can indeed be sorted out later. I'm glad for the lack of injuries." Another dip of her head, and she takes a step back away.
E'sere studies those remaining a moment, Br'ce first as the unfamiliar woman hails him. Then, Issa, as she steps forward to hail Yevide, the wingleader observing the two female riders from beside his dragon. Then, he turns back to his dragon, inspecting the faint marks along the bronze's muzzle before allowing himself to be pulled into a conversation with his wingsecond.
Morelenth> Morelenth projects to Trellazoth, << My rider will come to see yours later, at your weyr, if that is suitable? >>
Morelenth> Trellazoth grants permission graciously. << I believe that is a state of affairs that we are entirely prepared to accept. You may come by. >>
Morelenth> To Trellazoth: Morelenth concedes simply, << Until then. >>
There's no response to that warmth that's to be found with Issa, preferring the cool calm of her own approach. "She's well, all things considered. Taking her first scoring like a true hero." Small talk, that's all it is, brushed over with a quick tongue to keep anyone from looking beyond the surface. "But I've come because I have something for you." The greenrider begins to undo her riding jacket, a glimpse of an emerald necklace revealed as she unbuttons from the neck down. When she can, she reaches into an internal pocket, coming up with a small hide, three times folded over and sealed with wax, the crest marking it somewhat smudged from being kept pressed against the heat of her body for so long. "Thought I should probably deliver it now, seeing as I won't be able to in the near future." There's no bitterness, no defeat, not a hint of displeasure at her fate. In fact, there might even be a little bit of pride.
"No, I--" Br'ce lifts an arm, almost reaching for Aida as she steps away before he converts the motion on the fly to scratching his nose. A not very well done segue of actions. "I know, I know." He looks down awkwardly. "This was something that had to be done, though." he says, not quite apologetically. "I--I should go." he grimaces, looking over his shoulder towards Yevide and J'cor.
"Indeed," Aida says smoothly (to which bit, she does not clarify), bowing her head to the man and dragon before she turns on a heel and walks away, heading back the way she came. The young woman does lift a single hand towards Yevide -- hi, bye, all of it together, no actual interruption given on this day.
Br'ce watches Aida go, clenching his hands irresolutely for a moment before another nudge from Trellazoth serves to remind him. Momentarily, he frowns and turns back towards a certain bronzerider. "E'sere. I believe you wished to have a word with me in private? Would you like to join me in my weyr?" he says brusquely, without preamble.
"I hope it is minor," Yevide murmurs automatically, although her blue eyes do shift past Issa for a moment to rest upon the green. Her hand comes up in reaction to Aida's greeting, but it is the greenrider before her who holds her attention fast. The Weyrwoman claims the letter, turning it over to inspect the seal; Issa's face is searched for any knowledge of the contents that might nestle in amidst that pride. Then she breaks the seal, unfolding the hide that she might run her gaze over what is written upon it; the few brief words do not take long to scan, and she murmurs her response only moments later. "The great and the good indeed, Issa."
"Yes, please, if you've time," E'sere agrees at once, breaking away from his present conversation to face Br'ce. "I won't keep you long." He waves his wingsecond off with a gesture, moving to Morelenth's side to check quickly over the straps before mounting. "We'll follow you."
Br'ce nods curtly, strapping himself in and moving off immediately.
"I'm afraid I wouldn't know, Weyrwoman." There's that title again, tripping so easily off of Issa's lips that it hardly carries the weighty respect that it should. Her hand, now devoid of the letter, is brought up to cover that jewel adorning her throat with a protective curl of her fingers. But aside from the fidgeting, she remains fixed in place, eyes watching as the goldrider unfolds the letter. "Indeed," she responds, as if this fact should have been obvious to Yevide. "I hope it's nothing disturbing."
Uneth had fallen back to sleep, but now shifts, stretching in a mighty yawn. Alas, being summoned. He finally brings out wings nearly unmarred by sign of score, and takes to the air.
"It is not," Yevide replies easily, folding the letter back into thirds neatly, her fingers snapping off a little of the wax to even up the seal. "Thank you for seeing it into my hands." Her eyes leave Issa for a moment, traversing those still remaining until they light upon J'cor; she waves the hide briefly, proffering it for his attention. Even as she does so, she is addressing Issa once more. "I take it you have mended whatever hurt kept you apart from the author, then."
J'cor has been having a quiet conversation with a very worried looking bluerider - something about the weyr restrictions, and his family - but Karth has been keeping his eye on Yevide, and he apparently signals his rider. Extricating himself from the bluerider with a few murmured reassurances, J'cor strides over to the two women with a nod of greeting to Issa. Yevide, his familiar, needs no such proprieties.
"Yes..." Issa responds, the affirmation drawn into a thoughtful silence. "Though I can't say it does me much good now." A pensive disquiet sinks into her voice as she speaks, becoming more pronounced with every word spoken. An opportunity, dangling there for this new goldrider to seize. J'cor's arrival is met with a stiffly uttered, "Weyrleader," though she meets his gaze without trepidation.
"I suppose it does not," Yevide replies quietly; the warmth is creeping back into her tone, and sympathy too, more maternal with every syllable. As J'cor arrives, she extends the hide to him, glancing sideways with a smile that's bordering on rueful. "Issa has been good enough to pass along a message," she informs the bronzerider.
J'cor does not seem to notice the stiffness in Issa's greeting, accepting it as his due. When Yevide hands him the letter, it's the outside he inspects first, lifting the edge up to peer at the seal. This accomplished, he at last turns to the text, setting one hand gently on Yevide's shoulder as he does. The squeeze he gives her may be almost imperceptible; certainly there's no reaction to be detected in his features. Silent, he nods and hands the letter back to his Weyrwoman..
Issa musters a smooth little smile for Yevide, absorbing that maternal warmth with a humble glance down at her boots. And, like the good little courier that she is, she maintains a heavy silence while J'cor is passed the note, eyes hunting the older man's face for any trace of what's written, for even the slightest of reactions. Disappointed, however, her gaze returns to Yevide along with the letter. "If... if you don't mind my asking... did she mention where she's gone? It would be comforting... if I at least knew." She controls the waver in her voice, keeping it thin and subtle, but there nonetheless. Eyes blink away and a gleam of moisture becomes evident along the corners of her eyes.
When Issa came bearing cookies and smiles she had more success than she'll have now; having just watched her return from an unparalleled act of defiance, Yevide is less inclined toward sympathy, however maternal her smile. "You would do better to keep your mind on High Reaches, now," she murmurs, turning her head for a moment to offer J'cor just the start of a tight-lipped smile for that gentle squeeze. "I imagine you with to eat, or bathe, or sleep."
J'cor tilts his head at Issa, observing that gleam at the corners of her eyes, but no more receptive to it than his Weyrwoman. He keeps his mouth shut, his hand on Yevide's shoulder.
There's a tug at the corners of the greenrider's lips, but there's no smiles this time, just a tight-lipped grimace as she casts her gaze down once again. When Issa's face raises again, there's no sign of the threatened tears, nor of any waver in her voice as she says, "I will do just that, Weyrwoman." As the goldrider addresses her companion, Issa moves her head in an almost imperceptible nod. "I'll be in my weyr if you need me." And with that, she takes her leaves, reaching up to tuck away a wind-blown strand of hair before hugging her arms tightly around her midsection. Slowly she makes her way back to Oshsiyth and the pair departs shortly after.
Yevide watches Issa's departure in silence for a moment, then lifts her chin just once more to survey the now rapidly emptying bowl. The lack of company acts as a signal of sorts; she leans sideways into J'cor, head tilting for a moment to rest on his shoulder. That moment's respite is all she allows herself, however, straightening up a moment later to treat him to one of her warm smiles; quite as though the events of the past hour had not passed at all. "Go," she murmurs, tilting her chin away. "Do what you must."
J'cor tilts his own head as Yevide leans in, pressing his cheek to the top of her head. He yields when she pulls away, however, and eventually draws back himself. "Thank you," he says quietly - for the permission, for being here with him, for oh so many things. This is public, however, so he does not linger for anything further, but heads straight for Karth. The bronze barely waits for his rider to climb aboard before he flicks his wings wide and springs up, headed back to their weyr.