[Log] A Mother's Approval
Who: E'sere, Lexine
When: Day 10, Month 7, Turn 2, 7th Pass
Where: Lexine and Vasyath's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr
What: E'sere goes to see Lexine, and they discuss the current situation.
West Weyr
Unlike the larger weyrs in this complex, this weyr is small enough that it lacks the sitting area and almost lacks room enough for a working area. A small desk has been squeezed into a corner, settled on a hand-woven rug of brown and red. The walls above the desk have had shelves installed and these shelves are filled with a number of rolled hides. In the opposite corner is a bed made up in thick quilts. Flanking the entrance are two wardrobes, one for clothing and personal effects, the other for riding gear.
Directly ahead from the entrance is the curtained archway that leads out onto the weyr's ledge. The stone couch reserved for the junior gold is padded with rushes and the ledge itself has an impressive view of the northern bowl stretched out below it. It's also sheltered somewhat from the wind by the outward jut of the Senior's ledge-- a boon that is balanced by the fact that this larger ledge rests at the perfect angle to have a good view of its neighbor.
Contents:
Vasyath
Lexine
Obvious Exits:
Northern Sky (NS) Out (O)
"Dear Faranth." Lexine sits at the tiny desk in the western weyr, considering a book of the Weyr's accounts for the last two weeks, a basket of glows open to provide more light for aging eyes. Not everything is unpacked yet, though she has, with her usual efficiency, set everything up to her pleasure, within easy reach of habitual motions. Out on the ledge, Vasyath soaks in the last rays of the summer sun, her Thread-scored wing stretched out wide.
Morelenth deposits E'sere near the ledges, off to one side of the bowl, lingering there and watching his rider as E'sere turns to the steps. Up he climbs, the short distance to the flat ledge, heading toward Vasyath and the weyr behind her. He offers the queen a brief nod of recognition before slipping past, on into the weyr his mother has claimed for herself. He pauses long enough to rap his knuckles twice on the stone wall to announce himself, not speaking just yet. Instead, stiffly, he stands, watching the working woman.
"Good evening, E'sere," Lexine murmurs without looking up from the column of numbers, lips curving in a faint, gentle smile. "Just a moment, please." She is, indeed, just a moment more, completing the tally of numbers before leaning back in the chair and twisting to look towards her son, smile deepening at one corner. "I'm afraid there isn't much room here," she says, apologetic as she gestures around the room, a soft laugh following it. "I've not lived here since I was your age. But you're welcome to have a seat on the bed."
"Mother," E'sere offers after a moment, quirking a distant smile for the woman in return. As encouraged, he does step further in, on past the desk to perch on the edge of the bed, hands gripping its side as he watches her. "It's... It's all right. I don't really remember you ever being in here--it was always the Weyrwoman Diya's," he tells her as he glances around, taking in the changes she's made to the room. "How are you? Vasyath is looking well."
"I am glad to be home," Lexine answers honestly, reaching over to pat a hand lightly on the stone wall, smile warming. "Telgar is pleasant, but Tillek and the High Reaches are in my blood. Along with ice water, to ask some," she adds with distant humor. "Vasyath," she murmurs, looking out towards the ledge with anoter smile, "Is doing well, as well. She was quite proud of her latest clutch. As she always is. And you? I heard you led a wing to cover our errant neighbors." There's some amusement in the last, though she watches closely for his reaction.
E'sere nods slowly, thoughtful, in answer to Lexine's former words. "As she always is," he agrees, nodding. "Morelenth and I are well, too, considering. It's... Well. We did," he elects to respond to the first instead, nodding again, just once, and curtly. "Over Nabol. It went... well. It went well. Very few injuries overall, and those that we did have were minor." He shrugs slightly, looking up at her with a small frown.
"But you covered them, against the Weyrleader's orders," Lexine observes, still, apparently, reserving judgement on the matter. "A Hold that wasn't tithing, or observing their duties to their Weyr." She still watches, weighing and testing.
"I did," confirms E'sere, nodding once more. His lips purse under that regard, and though he's silent a moment, he soon returns with, "Would you have had me abandon them? All of them? Simply because Odern--my /cousin/ Odern--decided to throw a temper tantrum?"
"Third cousin, I believe," Lexine corrects absently. "Your father was cousin to Odern's sons." Her lips twitch towards a smile at the reaction, amused. "Easy, E'sere," she cautions. "When faced with a question like that, you can respond with emotion, or you can respond with intelligence. The intelligent answer is that you are a dragonrider, and your solemn oath and duty is to protect the lands within your coverage. You could no more abandon him than you could abandon Morelenth, and abandoning Odern would have meant damage to other lands as well."
"I wasn't getting into specifics," E'sere notes on the subject of his relation. He frowns, expression deepening at the talk she gives him. "The intelligent answer," he replies after a moment, "is whichever tact one works best in the situation. Are you going to lecture me now, Mother?"
"I believe that is what mothers do," Lexine observes bemusedly, arching a brow at her son with a hint of a smile. "And are you going to be defiant now? I hear that is what son's do, as well."
E'sere doesn't return the smile, only studying her in silence. Finally, ducking his head, he raises one hand to rub across his face, eyes closing a moment before he can look back up, properly apologetic. "I'm sorry," he tells Lexine heavily. "I'm... It's just been--stressful, lately, what with everything going on. Sometimes I think I should have run off to Igen when I had the chance. Like--" You did Telgar, but he doesn't say that.
"I did not come here to take up lecturing you, E'sere," Lexine notes gently, pushing carefully up from her chair with a quiet pop of joints to join him on the edge of the bed, reaching up to gently brush the hair from his eyes. "I am merely advising you on how to address those sorts of questions in the future. I can't fault you for doing as you did. It was what you've been trained to do, and it was, ethically, the right thing to do."
E'sere quirks a faint smile when Lexine pushes his hair back, bobbing his head quickly as he looks over at her. "I know," he tells her. "I know the right answer, too. I've had to give it before, after all. You missed... You missed that. It's old news now--now I have to find the right one for the eggs, and Yevide, and--everything. All of it."
"There is one reassuring truth about criminals, E'sere," Lexine murmurs reassuringly. "They are rarely, if ever, loyal. Whoever did it will have had accomplices, and one of them will start to see a profit in turning in their partner in time. And when that happens, we will have all of them. History does repeat itself."
"Until then--" E'sere grimaces, and shakes his head. He's silent another second, then rakes his own hand through his hair. Finally: "What are you going to do about the Weyrwoman Roa?" he asks.
Lexine quirks a brow at that, amused. "Well, I suppose I could wrap her in wool until she manages to go for more than a month without getting injured, but I suppose there's little else to be done about her. Is there something you're suggesting?" she asks curiously.
E'sere's return smile lacks Lexine's amusement. He points out, "You'd rather Tialith rose before Citalth."
"I think it might be best in the long run," Lexine admits. "You and I both know that Sinopa has neither the talent nor the inclination to actually perform the duties of a senior Weyrwoman. You and I both also know that relegating the next generation of goldriders to following her lead until Citalth ceases to rise would cause a great deal of resentment. Capable people crave power, E'sere. And capable people have ways of getting it. One murdered goldrider is more than enough for the forseeable future." She tips her head to one side, arching a brow. "You're not afraid you can't catch her, are you?"
"Then perhaps," E'sere says on the heels of Lexine's comments on Yevide, "one usurping goldrider is more than enough as well. The people are upset, stressed, angry, and while, certainly, none of them would wish her dead, they still didn't want her here." He pauses, lips pursing. "I don't know. She's already been victimized, and I don't think it's unlikely for it to happen again, if Tialith shows signs of rising any time soon. Even if she doesn't--everyone's so on edge now, it wouldn't take much to set them back off." Another pause, longer this time. E'sere frowns, licks his lips. Then: "Would you have me?" he asks in return for her latter question.
"Unlike Yevide, Roa has friends here," Lexine points out. "Yevide was Ganathon's lover, and nothing more. Add to the stress the fact that she was caught, as well, by a foreign bronze, and you do indeed have a recipe for trouble. It was...foolish of me to leave when I did. Perhaps if I had remained, they would have been less inclined to fear what she might do. However, the past is past, and we can only look to the future. And, after two weeks of Sinopa's control, I believe the people of High Reaches may have realized the pickle they've gotten themselves into." She takes another moment to consider the last question, thoughtful. "You have the training, the blood. You lack something in tact and experience, but those are things that come with time. Of those who remain here, I can think of few I would prefer."
"Unless," and here E'sere's mouth twists wryly, "the Weyrwoman Roa's friends are those who opposed the Weyrwoman Yevide--and I doubt that--I fail to see how we're any better off." He frowns again, briefly, watching his mother beside him. "But perhaps we can bring them around, and if the flight is closed--" He breaks off, still looking at her a moment, until he slides his eyes away, to the far wall. "Few," he repeats her words. "Few of those here."
"The flight will be closed," Lexine dismisses with a wave of her hand. "No one on Pern can protest that, after what's happened here. And with a Reachian Weyrleader at her side, especially a strong one, I think our people will be wise enough not to fear anything." When he looks away, a flicker of a frown crosses her features as she reaches over to brush the hair from his eyes again. "You will do fine, E'sere," she murmurs reassuringly. "You will do better if you believe that yourself, without having your mother tell you so."
E'sere frowns still, looking back again. "So I will," he agrees simply. And, relinquishing, ducking his head when she messes with his hair again: "Let us hope for Tialith, then."
"Hope, I think, has little to do with who will rise first. To be honest, I half-suspect Citalth will. It's been some time since last she rose, and we have no indication of when Tialith will rise. For all we know, she'll be a late bloomer and another Turn in rising," Lexine says with a faint smile. "And if she is, then at least we've gained a young, capable administrator to back up Sinopa, right?"
E'sere's smile, when he offers it, is wry. "Then we'll carry her, and make her look good in the process," he notes dryly.
Lexine leans over to press a kiss to his brow before rising. "Study Tialith," she advises, moving stiffly back towards her chair. "We both know you could catch Citalth in your sleep, but it's wise to be prepared. Watch her flight patterns, watch her hunt. Grow familiar with her patterns and her movements and her habits."
His mother's standing is cue for E'sere to do like, raising a hand to scrub her kiss away like a little boy. "I will," he promises, nodding. "Morelenth and I will learn her--just in case."
"And I will get back to work on cleaning things up," Lexine murmurs, looking up with a small smile as she returns to her seat at the desk. "It's good to see you again, E'sere. You're doing very well."
"Yes, you, too," echoes E'sere as he lingers a moment longer, watching Lexine return to her work. Finally, he offers a quiet, "Good night, Mother," and turns, slipping back out.
"Good night, 'sere," Lexine murmurs with a small smile, watching him out of the weyr before lowering head and hand to the book in front of her once more.