They Can't
Location: North Weyr
Time: Evening on Day 1, Month 8, Turn 3
Players: Ashwin, Roa, Tialith
Scene: Dragons keen and conclusions are drawn.
All over High Reaches weyr, dragons keen. The news is picked up and passed along between one heartbeat and another, and through the confusion, the dragons still know to mourn. The confusion takes a little longer to spread to humans, and for those who don't ride, questions go unanswered. The Captain of the guard extricates himself from the table at which he was eating, and makes his way almost unheeded out of a living cavern full of confused questions. Whatever's going on, it doesn't involve violence, and there's no call to duty here. So he shoulders gently past the last of the obstacles, and slides into the hallway that will lead him to the Weyrwoman's weyr. At which point he runs.
Roa was doing something quiet that had to do with writing. Or so say the fallen hides and the jar of ink that lies on its side, on the floor, by her desk. The pool of dark liquid spreading from the little bottle has ruined that rug for good. The weyrwoman's not at her desk any longer, but rather is out on the ledge with her mourning lifemate, standing utterly still and staring up at the gold. "Tia," she murmurs under her breath. She's not, really, aware that her thoughts are leaking out her lips. "Tia you're not...I can't..."
The door flies open, slamming against the wall where it connects, and Ashwin halts a moment, framed in the doorway as hs conducts a quick sweep of the weyr. Though he stops moving forward, his momentum doesn't seem to cease, the energy contained in his frame. Then he spots her, and moves again, his jog hardly slower than the speed at which he hurtled up the hallway, halting an arm's length away from the Weyrwoman.
"No, don't...shhhh....c'mere..." The weyrwoman is unaware, even with the door slam, that there is someone else here. Her arms reach up and the queen lowers her head, obliging, still crooning miserably. Fingertips curl around warm hide and Roa closes her eyes, oblivious, too, of the tears spilling down her cheeks. "Just tell me, shhh, just tell me. I can't understand what you..." She falls silent, forehead settling against the gold's muzzle as the queen quiets. Roa sniffs softly and lifts her head. "No, that can't...they can't..." and then she does turn to stare at Ashwin, blue eyes wide. "They can't," she tells him. "They -can't-."
Ashwin makes no move to announce his presence. He has visual confirmation that whatever's causing the keening isn't directly connected to his weyrmate or her dragon, and with that knowledge, the guard is prepared to wait out their private conference. He's standing quite still when Roa turns to him, hands wrapped around the hilts of his knives, pale eyes trained directly on her. "What is it?" His question is almost gentle, despite the circumstances.
"Nenuith's weyrlings," Roa says with another small sniff. One hand reaches up to swipe at her cheeks, looking almost annoyed that her fingers come away wet. "Six died. She knows because they're here. The ones that made it." She swallows sharply. "Jen was right."
"Nenuith," Ashwin echoes, as though he needs a moment to process the name. "Fuck, they're here?" His head turns out towards the bowl, and for the first time since he entered the weyr, his eyes leave her. "You mean they're here now?"
"Not..." Roa shakes her head, swallowing sharply and leaning back to rest her weight against the queen's bulk. "Five Mines. All of them, far as I can tell." There's a moment's pause as the weyrwoman digests those words and then has to try them out a second time. "All of them."
"Fuck," Ashwin remarks again, almost respectful as he murmurs it. He's impressed. "And they didn't get all the weyrlings with them. Is the rest of Pern hearing this too? Going to be a fuss in a minute."
"I don't...not sure but I don't think..." Roa has to pause to swipe at her eyes again, sniffing sharply, "Nen's Reaches. And she's in Reaches territory. Likely it's just us. I should find R'vain."
"My oath you should find R'vain," Ashwin agrees, with a degree more animation than is usual. "Probably got a vein going in his head by now." Rather than turning for the door, though, he takes a step forward, reaches out for her damp cheek with one finger. "Is she alright, now? Are you?"
"No," is the weyrwoman's answer to either question. To both. Her hand moves to trap Ashwin's between her cheek and her fingertips, eyes fluttering shut. But only for a moment. Then she's ducking her head and moving to squirm past with a murmured, "Doesn't matter."
"Debate that later," Ashwin replies, stepping back from Tialith so her rider can get by him. "Want me there, or down in the cavern, telling them to settle? Need me to find and send someone?" He is so used to being - here, in this weyr - simply her 'mate. Just now, in this moment, he is her Captain instead, and she his Weyrwoman. The transition is almost seamless.
"I don't--" Roa turns and almost snaps, but then she catches herself short, draws in a slow and careful breath, and tries it again. This time with a bit of civility. "Come with me," she says quietly. "See what he'd like done. Probably get some of the men out, make sure anxiousness doesn't get turned into panic or worse. Send Borser to the cavern, maybe. He's so quiet anyhow, nobody will think it's funny if he's not giving answers. Gives us time to figure out what those answers are going to be. Riders'll mostly have it figured by now."
"Yes, Weyrwoman," Ashwin replies quietly. One hand goes out, though, unguardedly, to squeeze her shoulder. "Plenty of my men down in the cavern right now, they're eating. Vej is there, he'll get them settling things down, and they can wait ten minutes for answers. Answers shouldn't come from me anyhow. Let's get to see him, and I can get his orders."
At the title, her nose wrinkles. Used to hearing it in general Roa is, perhaps, unused to hearing it from him. Her hand moves to touch the one he settles on his shoulder. "Captain," she returns quietly. And then she heads out of the weyr, not bothering to look behind to confirm that he follows.
Time: Evening on Day 1, Month 8, Turn 3
Players: Ashwin, Roa, Tialith
Scene: Dragons keen and conclusions are drawn.
All over High Reaches weyr, dragons keen. The news is picked up and passed along between one heartbeat and another, and through the confusion, the dragons still know to mourn. The confusion takes a little longer to spread to humans, and for those who don't ride, questions go unanswered. The Captain of the guard extricates himself from the table at which he was eating, and makes his way almost unheeded out of a living cavern full of confused questions. Whatever's going on, it doesn't involve violence, and there's no call to duty here. So he shoulders gently past the last of the obstacles, and slides into the hallway that will lead him to the Weyrwoman's weyr. At which point he runs.
Roa was doing something quiet that had to do with writing. Or so say the fallen hides and the jar of ink that lies on its side, on the floor, by her desk. The pool of dark liquid spreading from the little bottle has ruined that rug for good. The weyrwoman's not at her desk any longer, but rather is out on the ledge with her mourning lifemate, standing utterly still and staring up at the gold. "Tia," she murmurs under her breath. She's not, really, aware that her thoughts are leaking out her lips. "Tia you're not...I can't..."
The door flies open, slamming against the wall where it connects, and Ashwin halts a moment, framed in the doorway as hs conducts a quick sweep of the weyr. Though he stops moving forward, his momentum doesn't seem to cease, the energy contained in his frame. Then he spots her, and moves again, his jog hardly slower than the speed at which he hurtled up the hallway, halting an arm's length away from the Weyrwoman.
"No, don't...shhhh....c'mere..." The weyrwoman is unaware, even with the door slam, that there is someone else here. Her arms reach up and the queen lowers her head, obliging, still crooning miserably. Fingertips curl around warm hide and Roa closes her eyes, oblivious, too, of the tears spilling down her cheeks. "Just tell me, shhh, just tell me. I can't understand what you..." She falls silent, forehead settling against the gold's muzzle as the queen quiets. Roa sniffs softly and lifts her head. "No, that can't...they can't..." and then she does turn to stare at Ashwin, blue eyes wide. "They can't," she tells him. "They -can't-."
Ashwin makes no move to announce his presence. He has visual confirmation that whatever's causing the keening isn't directly connected to his weyrmate or her dragon, and with that knowledge, the guard is prepared to wait out their private conference. He's standing quite still when Roa turns to him, hands wrapped around the hilts of his knives, pale eyes trained directly on her. "What is it?" His question is almost gentle, despite the circumstances.
"Nenuith's weyrlings," Roa says with another small sniff. One hand reaches up to swipe at her cheeks, looking almost annoyed that her fingers come away wet. "Six died. She knows because they're here. The ones that made it." She swallows sharply. "Jen was right."
"Nenuith," Ashwin echoes, as though he needs a moment to process the name. "Fuck, they're here?" His head turns out towards the bowl, and for the first time since he entered the weyr, his eyes leave her. "You mean they're here now?"
"Not..." Roa shakes her head, swallowing sharply and leaning back to rest her weight against the queen's bulk. "Five Mines. All of them, far as I can tell." There's a moment's pause as the weyrwoman digests those words and then has to try them out a second time. "All of them."
"Fuck," Ashwin remarks again, almost respectful as he murmurs it. He's impressed. "And they didn't get all the weyrlings with them. Is the rest of Pern hearing this too? Going to be a fuss in a minute."
"I don't...not sure but I don't think..." Roa has to pause to swipe at her eyes again, sniffing sharply, "Nen's Reaches. And she's in Reaches territory. Likely it's just us. I should find R'vain."
"My oath you should find R'vain," Ashwin agrees, with a degree more animation than is usual. "Probably got a vein going in his head by now." Rather than turning for the door, though, he takes a step forward, reaches out for her damp cheek with one finger. "Is she alright, now? Are you?"
"No," is the weyrwoman's answer to either question. To both. Her hand moves to trap Ashwin's between her cheek and her fingertips, eyes fluttering shut. But only for a moment. Then she's ducking her head and moving to squirm past with a murmured, "Doesn't matter."
"Debate that later," Ashwin replies, stepping back from Tialith so her rider can get by him. "Want me there, or down in the cavern, telling them to settle? Need me to find and send someone?" He is so used to being - here, in this weyr - simply her 'mate. Just now, in this moment, he is her Captain instead, and she his Weyrwoman. The transition is almost seamless.
"I don't--" Roa turns and almost snaps, but then she catches herself short, draws in a slow and careful breath, and tries it again. This time with a bit of civility. "Come with me," she says quietly. "See what he'd like done. Probably get some of the men out, make sure anxiousness doesn't get turned into panic or worse. Send Borser to the cavern, maybe. He's so quiet anyhow, nobody will think it's funny if he's not giving answers. Gives us time to figure out what those answers are going to be. Riders'll mostly have it figured by now."
"Yes, Weyrwoman," Ashwin replies quietly. One hand goes out, though, unguardedly, to squeeze her shoulder. "Plenty of my men down in the cavern right now, they're eating. Vej is there, he'll get them settling things down, and they can wait ten minutes for answers. Answers shouldn't come from me anyhow. Let's get to see him, and I can get his orders."
At the title, her nose wrinkles. Used to hearing it in general Roa is, perhaps, unused to hearing it from him. Her hand moves to touch the one he settles on his shoulder. "Captain," she returns quietly. And then she heads out of the weyr, not bothering to look behind to confirm that he follows.