Logs:An Offer Too Good To Refuse
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| RL Date: 14 March, 2014 |
| Who: Ali, Hattie |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, Southern Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Hattie informs Ali she has an offer from Southern Weyrwoman Jubee in regards to her future. |
| Where: Council Chambers, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 1, Month 4, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Jubee/Mentions, Preita/Mentions, Brin/Mentions, Orialu/Mentions, Lilah/Mentions, Elise/Mentions, E'dre/Mentions, K'varl/Mentions |
| Of a morning, the council room table is usually covered with the day's hidework and other documentation to be completed, but, on this particular morning, it's bare, save for the tea service set down not so far from the brooding Weyrwoman who sits at the head of the table. She's not touched the tea yet, and there's no sign of hidework having been shuffled quickly away, or of abandoned pens and other writing equipment. For now, it's just Hattie and the silence. « Isyath. » The gentle nudge from Elaruth is one given with evident affection, though, as always, it's hardly invasive. « Would you ask Ali to visit the council room? » She's out on that ledge, basking in the cool morning sun, her gaze tipped towards the skies. Isyath circles high above, radiating contentment that the morning thermals are indeed, generous, and luring unsuspecting Fortian dragons in to join her. Her greeting to her dam is wordless, yet full of a rush of warmth and delight and starry light. « She comes. » Then after a beat, « Will you join me? The sun is warmer, up here. » Or so she imagines. Still getting used to the slightly warmer weather, Ali's wearing her shawl tucked tightly around her as she walks in a few minutes later. "Weyrwoman," she greets, with a smile, that forms a quick twist of lips. "I thought spring was supposed to be /noticeably/ warmer. I should've brought some- oh," she looks pleased as her gaze falls on the tea, and immediately moves towards it. Elaruth considers for a moment, darting her gaze towards the southern end of the bowl and where there would and might be sightings of weyrling dragons, then sits up and slowly stretches one limb after the other before padding around in a circle on her ledge. It gives her enough space to unfurl her long, narrow wings and take to the skies - whether Isyath imagines the difference in temperature or not, she'll believe her. « Yes. » It's a simple answer, delivered with bright, almost blinding, light, and soon she's drifting along to find those thermals and fly in circles that counter and balance her daughter's, so that they should meet at least twice per loop. "No, I think people just start wearing lighter clothes and we all convince ourselves that it's really summer come early," Hattie answers a little dryly, content to let Ali deal with the matter of the tea. She glances down into her lap, then takes a deep breath and says, lowly, "There's something we need to... discuss." Isyath's pleasure is a palpable thing, spilling out across the Weyr. Each time they pass each other, the pass is closer, though never dangerous: just enjoyable with a teeny bit of showing off. Ali starts to lift the tea pot, but pauses momentarily, glancing up - even if she can't /see/ - a grin splitting her features. "She loves when Elaruth flies with her," the junior murmurs, before pouring out two cups of tea. While conversations that start with 'there's something we need to talk about' are never good, the dark-haired woman seems oblivious to the implication, instead moving to set a cup in front of Hattie before settling in the chair to her right with her own. "What have the weyrlings done now?" because, naturally, they are normally the source of trouble at this age. It's not at all unusual to see Isyath circling high overhead, occasionally drawing other Fortian dragons in to join her. Today, however, the starry queen's delight spreads out amongst the Weyr as Elaruth joins her, the pair of queens circling in opposite directions on the day's thermals. (To Fort dragons from Isyath) To Fort dragons, Eliyaveith's heat remains firmly banked on the ground, though the young gold takes a moment to bask in Isyath's delight where it spreads, welcoming it simply and with an easy amount of respect for the older dragon. Turns out that Elaruth can really /fly/ when she chooses to, and though those senses of hers help ensure that she never quite touches Isyath, she's not at all averse to getting closer and closer in the moments that they pass each other, before she permits the currents to once more carry her where they will each time they part ways. Her contentment is a quieter thing, all bright light and comfortable calm; the occasional soft rustle of tall reeds. Hattie tries to answer Ali's grin with one of her own, but it falters somewhere along the way and she has to glance down again, at the table this time, though Elaruth's calm permeates and won't be denied, giving her the composure to say, "It's not the weyrlings," as she looks up at across at Ali. Murmured thanks for the pouring of tea buys her another second or so, then she's forced to begin explaining: "I-It's about you, and Isyath. Your future." Since when does Hattie stutter? The flush to Ali's cheeks is almost certainly reflected joy from Isyath, though it's Hattie's latter words that finally draw green gaze and the slightest furrow of brow. She takes a moment to take a sip of the tea, and sets it down on the table in front of her, readjusting her shawl. She's no nearly graduated weyrling to immediately feel guilty, and yet the words are unavoidably ominious. "Fort has four queens," she murmurs, not a huge leap to make, though her gaze is even and uncertain as she waits for Hattie to continue. "Fort has and /can support/ four queens," Hattie insists, not in argument, and ultimately more to herself than Ali. She drops her gaze to her tea, then reaches for the cup without lifting it, and exhales slowly. "But I'm not the one who has sought to use the fact of their being four to their advantage," she murmurs, clear, though plainly not /happy/. "...Jubee of Southern was hoping to leave her Weyr in the hands of Brin and Kyourith within the turn. I'm sure you can imagine that her plans now have to be... altered somewhat." She darts a quick look to her junior, then finally lifts her cup of tea to her lips to take a tentative sip that's more air than tea. "She's told me that she still wishes to step down, and she needs someone competent and experienced to take her place. Southern also needs a queen proven to rise and produce, as their own are less than... timely with it." "There's been rumors," Ali begins, "Especially at Dice, but I-" she's flustered still, and no longer just from Isyath's mood. She lifts her tea again and takes a slow sip to try and gain some equanimity. "Jubee?" she echoes, with surprise, her gaze going troubled at the mention of Brin. Her expression is a mixture of thoughtful and troubled. "Is this for Preita?" and after a beat, "Back then, you promised you wouldn't make us-" she takes a breath, though, and doesn't finish the emotional reaction. She's a bit further removed from the naive-girl-of-then, and after chewing her lower lip a moment, asks, "What does Fort gain in return?" "This isn't about Preita," Hattie is quick to state, though the girl's very name is enough to make her pale visibly. "And I'm not /making/ you do anything. I'm telling you what she's requested and what she wants - you don't have to go through with /any/ of it." She tips her cup to take another mouthful of tea, then sets her cup down, not without a too-heavy clink of cup against saucer. "It doesn't matter what Fort gets in return; I don't care," the Weyrwoman says bluntly, dark gaze settling on Ali once more. "If someone had asked for you as a token junior, I'd have told them where to shove it." But she too takes a step back from a too emotional reaction, quieting her voice. "...She wants you to be Weyrwoman of Southern. She would name you Acting when she steps down, and then it would be just a matter of waiting for Isyath to rise. You would have your own Weyr." After a quiet moment, "I do," Ali says, "I care what Fort gets in return, if it means we don't have to- you could shut down Dice." Her fingers are white where they're pressed against her tea cup, and when Hattie mentions telling another Weyrwoman to shove it, it makes her laugh, pressing a hand over her mouth. The amusement is brief, and doesn't linger over long, however. "I-" she goes silent again, considering. "I- never wanted my own Weyr," she eventually says, as though she'd never given it any consideration - until now. With a frown, "Isn't Jubee worried that Issy will never provide stable leadership? She's never flown the same mate twice- she's only just clutched her first queen, and I-" she's going through all the reasons /why not/. With an exhale of breath, her unsteady gaze lifts to the other goldrider, and she leans forward, an inadvertant expression of how important the question is, "What do you think, Hattie?" "...I don't really think that shutting down Dice is much of an option, now. There would be more complaints if it close than if it stayed." Admitting that is not without a sense of heavy wryness, though Hattie manages something like a smile when Ali laughs, her lips quirking into a crooked little line. "Elaruth wasn't consistent until she was Senior." Though she only had one flight as a junior. "Jubee knows what I know - that a Weyr can survive different Weyrleaders as long as the Weyrwoman and her juniors know what they're doing. And you do." She shifts awkwardly in her seat, as if she could avoid talking of what Fort might gain, but, with a sigh, she relents. "Jubee has offered Fort half a wing of riders with extensive or promising craft training, whether formal or otherwise. Their Weyrharper in training is among them. What else she's suggested is of little consequence." Yet by the sheer fact of her /not/ discussing it, she might as well confess to money being involved. What does /she/ think? "...I think you could do the job better than most," she says gently. "I understand why she wants to leave her Weyr to you. I think you've earned it, but it isn't my decision to make." Ali's far too expressive not to react to Hattie's answer- a notable frown when she says Dice would be difficult to close; a slight shake of her head as to Elaruth's consistency (she knows the records well enough to know she only had a single junior flight); an exhale at the admission of half a wing, and more tellingly, an approving nod at the /what else/ that's not mentioned. Her gaze drops from Hattie to her tea, not-quite-concealing the smile the Weyrwoman's final words draw forth. "We talked about the benefits of a strong relationship with Southern and Fort. We could set up regular wing exchanges - even junior exchanges if- when Issy clutches another queen." When, not if, now. Speaking of if: "If I did this- it would benefit Fort a great deal. It'd- get us out of the mess /I/ put us in." Chewing her lip, she adds, "I- I'd want to take some people with me. My brother. Iska's nanny. K'varl, if he'd come?" she's not so certain on that last. "If you do this, I'd rather you did it for you, not for Fort." Hattie quickly lifts her mug to take another, brief drink, then settles back in her chair again, shoulders slumping. "I think it would benefit both Fort and Southern to be more to each other than someone we call on when we need something, yes," she agrees. "The matter of the /mess/," she'll borrow Ali's word, "is /not/ one, if you wish to stay. I wouldn't even be contemplating this, if it weren't a promotion for you." There's something quietly defeated in her gaze when her junior begins to speak of people to take with her, though she ceases to protest or offer counter-arguments seemingly of that very moment. "K'varl could ask the Weyrleader for a transfer, if he wished to go with you," is as much as she can hazard on that front. "It would keep him out of Boll's clutches. The rest, if they'd want to go, would be yours." With a smile that is part attempt at gentle humor and part wry, Ali counters with, "It can't be both?" With another exhale, she lifts hands and presses them against her shawl, displaying her brief uncertainty. "You know I've never wanted to leave Fort. But- it's a good opportunity for both Weyrs." She's saying it as much to work through it aloud as for Hattie's benefit. "I'd- want to talk with K'del, of course. But-" a pause, "I'd still- we'd be okay, Hattie. You and me. I'd still make tea for you, and you and N'muir could vacation at Southern, though- I guess you'd need time to train the two weyrlings." That thought makes her frown. "Issy won't rise for at least another Turn. Maybe Jubee can put it off..?" she tips her head questioningly. Hattie tries another smile, sad around its edges. "We'd be okay," she promises, reaching for one of Ali's hands. "You and me." She can't help but supply a huff of laughter in answer to the issue of the weyrlings, saying, "I'd have to train them anyway. It'll be at least a couple of turns before either of them can be trusted to be Acting for any period of time. I can't imagine it now - the thought /is/ rather frightening." Deliberately playing up those last few words. A slow, regretful shake of her head is given in answer to putting things off. "Jubee... would like to retire as soon as she can. I think Brin and Kyourith's deaths have hit her harder than she'll admit, and only made her more aware of her own mortality. If she leaves Southern to an untried junior and a gold with poor fertility, she might as well stand and watch it fall apart." Then: "She suggested that she would speak to Igen and Benden, if you felt it wasn't for you." Ali squeezes Hattie's hand back, exhaling slowly as if to stop a more obvious emotional noise from escaping her. "Was it frightening for you, when Issy found me?" she wonders, with a curious smile. Then, "I could look in on things here and there, if you needed a break. Drop by to visit friends while you're gone. Make sure E'dre hasn't punched anyone." The junior swallows briefly at that news. "Igen has Orialu," an uncertainty is definitely voiced there, "Or Vae, and I doubt Nimae would give up Vae. Benden-" she exhales sharply. "I need a couple of days, to think on it- to talk with a few people. Leaving Fort is- it's a big deal." There's a long pause as Hattie genuinely considers that question and stares off at a point just past Ali's nearest shoulder. "No, actually," she quietly replies, certain, and with a hint of something like Elaruth's calm, as her gaze refocuses and lands squarely back on her fellow goldrider. "I knew you were the right one, or Elaruth knew. And you /are/ right." Not /were/ - she won't commit to that yet. Another burble of laughter follows: "Don't you mean that nobody's punched E'dre?" But, all too soon, she has to sober, and murmurs, "Jubee would be after Vae - Dosanyth's proven herself to be reliable - or she's who /I/ would pick, anyway." She gives her junior's hand a final squeeze, then slowly retreats back into her own space, knotting her hands in her lap. "You don't need to tell me now," she assures. "Just... don't think too long. If anyone gets that knot, it should be you." There's a mixture of genuine surprise and earnest warmth from the junior at those words, Ali chewing her lower lip a moment. "At the time I always thought- I was a bit of a disappointment, in some way," she confesses, quietly. The mention of E'dre getting punched earns a quiet laugh. "Some things will never change. If I do go, I hope you'll keep me up to date on that. It's- familiar," she looks upwards again, distantly, as she settles her hands back around her cup. "Issy will- I wonder what she'll think." Even her rider isn't sure, on that score. The latter words draw her gaze back with a nod. "I- I won't. And... thank you, Weyrwoman." For the offer, the advice, the tea? Perhaps all of the above, as the dark-haired woman stands. "No, it's--" Hattie starts to say, but she doesn't get the words out the first time. "...It was my mistake. I... tried to turn you into me, and... I can never meet my impossible standards, so it wasn't fair. I wasn't fair. To either of us." And that might just be the most painfully honest thing she's ever said to her. She gives a couple of shallow nods on the subject of Isyath, gaze tracking Ali as she stands. "I would hate to try and anticipate anything that Isyath has to say," she teases fondly, her smile a bit wobbly. "But thank you, Ali. For considering all of this." Ali starts to respond, then closes her mouth, visibly needing to take a moment and adjusting her shawl, a mixture of sadness and comprehension in her expression. "I wasn't- the easiest, either. It was hard to let go of- a lot of things I needed to." After a moment's hesitation she steps around the corner of the table with the intention of bending to give Hattie a brief hug. "We both turned out better than fine, in the end," she says, as she straightens, smiling- a gesture that turns into a laugh at the suggestion of anticipating Isyath. "I'll- we'll talk later. I'll bring afternoon tea," she says. "For now, they're happy," Isyath and Elaruth, presumably, "And it's- nice, for everyone." She's holding onto that thought as she walks out. |
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