Logs:Rubbing Elbows
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| RL Date: 30 April, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Irianke |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Irianke calls Farideh in for an update, but they talk weyrleaders and politics instead. |
| When: Day 6, Month 9, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, Nimae/Mentions, M'lach/Mentions, Ali/Mentions |
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| Sometime after breakfast, a request comes for Farideh to be present in the acting Weyrwoman's weyr after lunch. This means being excused from whatever lecture is being presented to food-coma weyrlings at the time. Irianke waits in her weyr, her hands never idle, as they sift through various paperwork and notes. Her own light lunch is barely touched, though the goblet of wine at her elbow appears to be mostly empty if one should get close enough to peek in. The once-Igen holder has such affection for the once-Igen goldrider, but it's hardly with anticipation that she seeks out the other goldrider in her weyr. Her footsteps are slow and heavy, each more tremulous than the last, until she's moving past the ledge, the gold's portion, and finally, brushing aside the beads to enter. Vacillating in the entryway, Farideh waits, as though hoping Irianke notices her before she has to say anything, her eyes large and full of dread in a suddenly pale face. The goldrider looks tired, the mask of her public persona dislodged in the privacy of her weyr and given her next appointment, Farideh, it's clear she doesn't feel the need to make pretenses of her state of exhaustion. Though, it might be she just doesn't notice for a long, long moment, until she's looking up, a good five minutes later, searching the ceilings and then walls for a word and, instead, finds Farideh waiting. A tired smile splits her face and a gesture beckons the weyrling in. "Come in. Come in. You," the tired clears for a moment, always astute eyes catching something of those large eyes and that dread commingled on a pale face. The thought doesn't finish, merely punctuated with a quizzical brow. Hesitation is brief, but Farideh follows the directive, to come in at the other woman's behest. "Hello," she greets, as she walks over to where Irianke is sitting, though she stands there looking uncomfortable rather than sitting. It's a tense moment of fidgeting and staring at her feet, and then: "I shouldn't have called him those things. I shouldn't have said it. I'm sorry-- I'm stupid, but I just-- I don't like him at all." Her cheeks flush and she looks highly embarrassed, by whatever admission she's just given; it might be that she thinks her reason for coming is in being reprimanded by the older woman. There's silence, of the surprised variety, after Farideh finally stops digging that hole for herself. Any remnant vestiges of tired flies off her expression, leaving Irianke looking startled, then thoughtful, then disturbed. A finger lifts and she points slowly to a chair with a one word command, yes, command, "Sit." Then, a pointed, "Hello, Farideh. How are you? How is Roszadyth? How has your first month been? I didn't mean to not keep in touch, but I remember that first month being a whirlwind of feelings and emotions and things." For Irianke, Farideh is at least obedient, and swiftly sits where she's commanded to. She busies herself smoothing imaginary wrinkles out of her pants and chasing around loose threads along the side hem. "Hello," she tries, again, only meeting Irianke's gaze for a breath, before her eyes drop back to her hands, "we're fine. It's been difficult. Easier than some? Harder than others. Roszadyth is never a trouble but everything else-- is." By the end, she's chewing pensively on the side of her bottom lip. "And you? Niahvth?" The pretense of polite conversation goes as far as this, "Niahvth is well enough. She's enjoying discovering all the areas of the High Reaches coverage area and I admit, she loves this land far more than I think I do. It is quite different from Igen." Quite. Irianke looks at Farideh, some sympathy deep in her stone blue eyes. "I'm going to assume you were speaking of the Weyrleader." "Quite," is Farideh's quiet agreement, but she's not really thinking about all of the ways that High Reaches lacks Igen's natural appeal. She's stuck on her guilt and her dislike, which their conversation is eventually brought around to. Her chin dips, her eyes lifting to Irianke, where they remain, just as her expression is part remorse, part sullen. "How do you stand him?" "Because I must." Irianke says, her palms open for Farideh to look at, or to appeal to the younger woman. "And," she adds, surmising from the young goldrider's confession, paired with her subsequent question and attitude, pieces of what must have happened, "He is a good man, if a touch blind as a leader. Why is it you dislike him?" "Why? Can't you choose anyone else? Someone better? Someone not so--" Farideh makes a face, using her hands to illustrate some kind of something about his head; his ego, his intelligence, his hair? "I can't lay a finger to it exactly, except that he's incapable. So many bad things have happened since he's been Weyrleader, to so many people. Would it have with anyone else?" She looks frustrated, but scrubs at her forehead with her fingertips. "I have to learn to tolerate him. I know. Roszadyth reminds me almost daily." "He is the only confirmed leader of High Reaches," says Irianke lowly, a resigned look crossing her face. One of those hands in silent entreaty begging Farideh's understanding, lifts to run through her hair instead, catching on a snag in her dark curls. "He could have requested a replacement for me from the Weyr Council and returned me to Igen. I only lead by default, which is lucky," she pauses a beat, "For you. At least now. Do you," the goldrider considers Farideh in silence for a handful of seconds before continuing, "Desire to be Weyrwoman now?" Sympathy comes easily, and appropriately. It's a terrible lot they've been cast, or in Farideh's eyes at least. Her reaction to Irianke's question is more of a blanching, her hands shooting out to wave away the thought. "No. No. I don't want to be the Weyrwoman now, or ever. You have to stay. Niahvth has to rise first." She's certain about that part, with her intense expression, and eyes that study the other goldrider for any changes in tone of demeanor that could bode ill for herself. "Roszadyth is just a baby still, and I don't have the appetite to run anything." It would be a lie if the relief in Irianke's expression wasn't visible, even to those not necessarily observant by nature. "If only things of that nature could be controlled," murmurs the goldrider, reaching for her goblet and finding it empty. "I still have no idea how Azaylia muddled through all those months by herself. You would learn. I would, will train you and you will at least know how to pretend to play the part until things became more natural." A more genuine smile breaks free, just as Irianke rises to go get another bottle of wine off her bar, flashed at the Igen girl, "Is it about time to be grateful towards your mother for her endless desire and lessons for you to be a Lady Holder?" "I thought the dragons know. Won't Niahvth know that she needs to rise and stabilize things?" It's a desperate hope, but one that Farideh is choosing to cling to. She slumps back against the chair she's sitting in, shoulder drooping, while she watches Irianke move to the sidebar. "No? It's still-- everything's just-- I didn't think it would be Roszadyth. I don't know that I'm ready to do that all over again. Putting on the face, pretending to be-- someone, something else. Tolerating people like K'del." Her lips press together and she stares down at her fidgeting fingers again. "It's like I'm right back to the start." "He's a good man," repeats Irianke, as if needing to reassure herself of this. Her goblet and then an extra glass is poured, both being brought to the table. "Congratulations on making it to the second month. It's not with dinner, but if you want," it's right there. On the table. "If Roszadyth rises first, I will make sure Niahvth grounds Cadejoth somehow. Good man or no, I don't believe spending half his time at Southern Weyr does either Weyr much good. I've seen how an ill-fated weyrmating can impact a Weyr and M'lach is of no true rank at Southern." "What if Niahvth does? What will you do? Allow Cadejoth to chase?" Farideh stares at the extra goblet for a long time, before reaching forward to grab it, her fingers tightening reflexively around the stem. "He has a lot of kids, doesn't he?" She frowns, at that. "Why doesn't he just move there? They can be weyrleaders together and High Reaches can find someone who's-- not--" But she stops herself and instead, closes her eyes, taking a drink from her newly acquired goblet of wine. There's a gleam of hope, something long squelched that's finding a fuse to burn along and regain life. "Oh. I would be lying, Farideh, if I didn't say I want to be Weyrwoman." Irianke sounds honest. Real, without anything to hide. "That I believe I could be a good Weyrwoman for High Reaches to put an end to all this... cursed nonsense." And yet she pauses a little before those words. "But if Niahvth rose first, I don't think we would be able to keep him from chasing and I don't know if Roszadyth would have come into her powers as a queen to enforce a grounding. This wasn't why I called you in," she adds, rueful and chagrinned at the turn of conversation from what had been planned. Momentarily, there's a convivial curve to the younger woman's mouth, and that usual affection that lights her face when they're together. "You would make a wonderful Weyrwoman, Irianke. Certainly not like Azaylia and not like Nimae either, just-- you." Her goblet is set back down, for now. "Couldn't we do something? Distract him? Send them off on a goose chase somewhere? We could lie and convince him Roszadyth is rising somewhere, when really it's-- Niahvth, elsewhere." Except, she's not had those mating flight lessons yet, and doesn't recognize the holes in her hastily slapped together plan. Easing back again, she lifts puzzled eyes to Irianke. "Why did you?" It's never occurred to her that it could be anything else. Irianke doesn't address the holes in that idea, but does smile, a gentle, slightly patronizing, but fond smile. "Would you believe it was just to see how you were adjusting? If anyone has mentioned the coincidence of two Igen woman riding gold at High Reaches Weyr and how the weyrlingmaster team has been treating you. You know," the once trader shrugs carelessly and laughs, "The usual things in the life of a goldrider." Farideh doesn't notice the patronizing smile, though she does flush lightly for her underestimation. "I'm sorry. No, no one has-- well, I've heard people talking about it, when they think I can't hear, but everyone else. They all say I'm a High Reaches goldrider because Roszadyth hatched a High Reaches gold. They don't think of me as an Igenite. You--" She sucks in a breath and looks sad, at Irianke. "It is an odd coincidence that we both are. It could have been anyone." And then she shrugs, because not even she, as right as she thinks she is, knows how dragons choose. "Me." Irianke agrees with what was left unsaid, shrugging in a what can you do manner. She is Igen and will be considered Igen for a very long time. The goblet in her hand is lifted, and she drinks from it slowly before speaking a slowly paced, carefully worded thought. "Once Roszadyth is of age to between, I would like you to accompany me in visiting the other Weyrs. I would like you to find a peer who you can speak with, relate to, and grow in leadership with and might not mind working closely with in the future. Does that sound agreeable to you, Farideh?" "A peer?" Farideh frowns, her forehead puckering between her eyebrows. "I don't understand. Another goldrider? To compare notes with? And-- compare our leadership styles with? Is that what you mean?" She is still frowning at the end of her own questions, but even without knowing, she trusts Irianke, and tips her head in a nod of approval. "I can if you think it best. Whatever it entails." "Someone you would work well with and might not mind transferring in should High Reaches not clutch another gold in the next two turns," says Irianke, her tone far more simple than what her words imply. "I'm--" Farideh's eyes narrow, but more in the thinking way than in suspicion. "I suppose? Where would we find someone like that? What if she doesn't like me?" If there's an in-depth, complex meaning, she doesn't give any hint as to knowing it. "That's why we visit all the Weyrs and find you a friend." Irianke infuses a healthy dose of cheer into her words, enough that it sounds fake enough to incite laughter. "It's lonely being a weyrwoman sometime and it's lonelier when you look out and consider other Weyrs the enemy rather than your comrades. I'd rather High Reaches reach out in the future, make ties, make friends, and try to survive the rest of the Interval intact." "A friend?" Farideh does laugh, at that, and shakes her head, whilst scrunching up her nose. "I don't make friends that easily." She bobs her head up and down, in a short series of nods, in agreement with that Irianke's saying about ties and alliances. "You want me to make friends," she repeats, this time with a certain inflection; she might finally get it! "Being a goldrider isn't like being a lady." Irianke sits back and cups both hands beneath her goblet. "I mean, not that I've ever been a lady to compare, but there is freedoms granted us that you would never have gotten as a wife of a Holder or the daughter of your mother. But a story for another time, perhaps. I've kept you from your lessons long enough and I hoped to have this report completed before dinner so I can go dancing at Ista." The last has just the slightest bit of apology, the awareness that the weyrlings are stuck for now hitting a half second too late. "But it comes with similar expectations of political know-how and rubbing elbows?" Farideh sighs, and looks like she's on the verge of grabbing that goblet again when Irianke makes her excuses. She looks glum, but pushes up from her chair and runs her fingers through her hair. "Thank you for listening and-- checking in on me. I hope you enjoy your-- night." She is perceptive enough not to ask, and gives the other woman a smile and a wave before she's making her way back out the way she came in, as usual, in better spirits than when she arrived. |
Comments
K'del (00:54, 1 May 2015 (EDT)) said...
I want to see a cohort of Pern's youngest goldriders, all hanging out and being friends. Hanne and Rachis and Areto and Margaut and Farideh~~
(This was a fun scene. I really enjoy seeing Irianke and Farideh interact.)
Alida (03:43, 1 May 2015 (EDT)) said...
Gang of gregarious(?), girlish goldriders. Watch out, Pern! :D
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