Logs:Best Interests
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| RL Date: 28 June, 2015 |
| Who: Lilah, X'vin |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Lilah is the welcome wagon for Fort's newest wingleader. |
| Where: Council Room, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 16, Month 2, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: N'muir/Mentions |
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The Weyr's meeting space is a long, oval space with a large stone table
placed in the middle. There's seating enough for twelve around the table:
plenty of room to welcome most of the Weyrleaders and a good portion of
the Lord Holders from the north, though additional seating might be needed
if a Pern-wide meeting were to be held here.
A sideboard stands ready to serve, regardless of the occasion and is kept
well-stocked with carafes of wine, water and several fine liquors. Fresh
flowers, appropriate to the season are changed out regularly in the vase
atop the sideboard. Tapestries depicting Fort's illustrious history from
founding, to Moreta's role in the Plague to Lessa's arrival to bring the
Weyrs forward in time bedeck the walls, leavening the omnipresence of
cool, gray stone. Well-lit, the chamber boasts glows in niches around the
room, as well as oil lamps hanging from the ceiling. Lilah's dark eyes lift to watch N'muir leave the council room, ignoring the knot that the man has thrown into the center of the table for now only to watch him leave. It isn't usual for an Acting Weyrwoman to be a part of any wing appointment, but then, nothing about their current situation seems to be usual. The extent of what X'vin knows or doesn't-- hasn't been addressed. That N'muir doesn't seem to be happy with his appointment... Well, that can hardly go unnoticed. Her gaze drops back to the man seated across from her only after, adding only a dry, "Welcome to Fort, Wingleader. I hope that you live up to the reputation that precedes you." She draws to her feet, moving over to the sidebar of stocked liquors, gesturing in question to the bronzerider. X'vin is not quite reclining in the chair he's been offered, and he is perhaps not giving N'muir the proper amount of attention for his storming out. The Benden rider -- no, wait, Fort; that's his knot, and he takes it even before the Weyrleader has cleared the exit -- is still smiling, amicable if perplexed. "I assure you I will," he replies, reaching up to carefully detach the knot he already wears. "I'm sorry to see N'muir is so resistant to the idea. If you've a Benden red, I'd not turn it down." That's for the cabinet, and it's not liquor, but his tastes must be from those mountains after so long there. He continues, however, "I understand T'rov's history here, but change is good. I heard your relations with the hold is..." He pauses, both to consider his wording and to catch his tongue between his teeth while he twists the last, difficult pin out of his symbol of rank and home, "strained. I think I can help with that. And I thank you for the chance. It's good to be closer to home." There is a red, and Lilah does not comment on the vintage as she pours it smoothly into two glasses. She doesn't bring that second glass directly to X'vin, but rather reclaims her seat and sets it on the table between them where he will have to reach for it, much like his knot before. "The Weyrleader is still adjusting to my leadership, so of course I cannot disagree that change is good," she replies with wry humor, lifting her glass for a slow sip as she studies the wingleader with the weight of dark eyes over him. "Do not thank me. I'm sure you'll regret your knot soon enough. If you can help, well--." Whatever she's getting at, leaving his glass in the center of the table, it's lost, or at least not acknowledged, because he's swapping. He simply grabs it as he leans forward to deposit his Benden knot there, taking a taste to prime his palatte and then an actual sip. "Foxy," he says, looking at the glass with scrutiny. "Tillek." And the glass is on the table, with a polite smile and no overt complaints. Possibly he thinks it was just kind of her to try. He has a laugh for her, though. "I'm sure I can. Most people -- well, they probably don't know me, anymore, but they know who I am. I'd welcome a chance to review the past months, to see where I should start." It's a gentle request, but one that suggests he's not often met with argument. He laughs quietly, though, as he starts putting the new knot on. "If it's that bad, you could have declined my transfer." "Your Weyrleader is still N'muir. You will restrict your duties and your wing to what he will have you do," answers Lilah flatly, her gaze sliding to that abandoned glass but not remarking on it as she takes another slow sip of her own. There's a long, drawn silence between them; there's little about the Weyrwoman that suggests she's one to give in to gentle requests, even from pretty bronzeriders. But, she adds finally, "But, I find myself in the position where I must visit and introduce myself to our holders; assure them of-- something, I am sure. If you have time outside of your duties, I will not say no to an escort in these visits." X'vin puts his hands up, palms out to her in surrender, but damned if he isn't still smiling. "Of course, Weyrwoman, of course. I never meant to imply I would do anything without his blessing." Except take that knot, which does present stark contrast to his abandoned red and black, now that he's got it on. "I only meant that the Records are your area, and I would not say no to some help navigating to and through yours. Of course, I'd be more than willing to escort you anywhere you'd like to go." A brow draws in a curve upwards, a familiar gesture as Lilah studies the bronzerider and his smile still. She replies challengingly, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours." Likely, she doesn't really mean this, given that X'vin's status surely gives him access to any of those records that the Weyr keeps. And for all that she was the one that suggested, as he agrees to escort her, the goldrider murmurs a dry, "I am sure you would," as she takes another sip of wine. Maybe X'vin will take a drink of that terrible wine, just to keep the peace, and even manage to keep his mouth from souring in the process. He can't finish it, in fairness; it's terrible, and probably from Tillek, but it's a gesture of good faith. "You have a deal," he agrees, for whether her challenge is joking or not, it's a challenge, an offer, and he's learned when to take them. "Assure them of something," he echoes, tilting his head. "Assure them the weyr is still in their best interest, I'd guess. I hear my father's put himself behind you -- mm. Us. But not everyone." It's a cryptic sort of thing, that he doesn't elaborate on, though he's studing her carefully. "Assure them that if they do not think we are, that we can at least be their worst interest," counters Lilah to that firmly, apparently unconcerned with what he has heard as she meets his gaze with, finally, a small, sharp smile of her own. It disappears quickly. "And where do you put yourself, wingleader? With your father and the Holders? With Benden? Why did you want to come to Fort?" X'vin's expression flickers, ever so slightly, but it's smoothed into neutrality possibly before it can be caught. "That is one way," he acquiesces. "But perhaps not the best. Their hope is already fragile." His eyebrows go up at her question, like she's asked him something very obvious. He leans forward, folding his hands on the table in front of him. "Make no mistake, weyrwoman. My transfer does not indicate unstable loyalties. I stand with Fort Weyr - and by extension, with my family and Hold. It pains me to see them struggle, even now, but my duties were inextricably tied to Benden, until recently." He doesn't elaborate on that, but relaxes slightly through the shoulders. "Sometimes it's just about getting the timing right." Lilah doesn't seem concerned by that brief flicker in his expression. She is likely used to some sort of reaction to statements like that, for all that she doesn't stop making them. But nor does she try to soften it or take it back as she replies, "We are not exactly on the most stable ground, either, and it is the Holders who have put us here. Or at least, one who didn't have the respect for us that he should have." But, as she finishes off her wine in a single swallow and moves to rise, she adds to the bronzerider, "I hope to see all of Fort flourish soon. Your family, our holders, and us." A pause. "Though, I did not get the impression that your family is exactly struggling, like most of us." X'vin has the good sense to not shake his head, at least not much, but he stands as she does, trained in courtesy. "Our goals align, then. But, no. They aren't. My father plans well." It's a hollow explanation. "He taught me a few things. That is why I transferred to Fort, weyrwoman." He's smiling again, though not at her, as he pushes his chair under the table. "I look forward to working with you." There's not a hint of disingenuity there, not in his words or his smile, when he finally turns it to her. That comes when he adds, an afterthought, "And N'muir. But I'm sorry to have taken up so much of your time. You only have to let Besmernyth know when you'd like our assistance, and we'll be there. If there's nothing else...?" "Then we will figure out how best to utilize you, you can be assured, wingleader." That the Weyrwoman's gaze lingers over the bronzerider, a buried hint of appreciation for him and his smile that is masked by her reserved manner--. Well, they have all made their assumptions, have they not. But she only nods her silent dismissal to X'vin, not even offering him a goodbye. X'vin's gaze lingers on her, very briefly, but he turns on his heel to go, offering, "Good day, ma'am," and leaving a half-empty glass of wine and a Benden knot on the table in his wake. |
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