Logs:Stay or Go
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| RL Date: 17 November, 2015 |
| Who: Dahlia, R'fyn |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: Zaisavyth is glowing; Dahlia has choices to make. |
| Where: Dahlia's Touch of Pink Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 4, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Cora/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, J'zen/Mentions, Mirinda/Mentions, N'jem/Mentions, Nimae/Mentions, Zennia/Mentions, Zezenia/Mentions |
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| The man leaning over her had a nice smile. She knew he did because that's what had made her want to know him. Only 22 and with the sort of warmth that always made her feel welcome. R'fyn had been shy at first, and initially, everything had been perfectly professional. He'd Impressed a brown in Elaruth's clutch, was farther along in lessons and most importantly was willing to help Dee with the parts she struggled with. R'fyn had a quiet and unassuming manner, the sort of man that might be overlooked when amid a company of men with more boast and bravado than was good for them. She'd liked that. They worked well together. After he'd graduated, she'd spent some time with him because he was from here and so much of what she needed to work on was making herself from here, too. As they spent more time together, things-- changed. Graduated to beyond the professional. A casual friendship followed by a casual tangling of sheets. She liked him, liked his smile. Now, as he leaned over her, face identifiable only because the small glowbasket he carried illuminated it in a golden light, his smile was missing. His lips were set with grim resolve. In her groggy state, Dee didn't immediately understand. She was out of the infirmary, she knew Taeliyth had passed along that much to his Raivajeth who'd inquired daily after her well-being for no other reason than that he and his were genuinely concerned for her. He could be counted among her friends, for sure, after that. So knowing that Dahlia wouldn't die from this, what could make him look so grim? What could make him turn up uninvited at such an hour and rouse her from the first rest that had actually been restful since long before she fell ill. "What?" her voice felt dry and she realized she hadn't spoken at all the day before, and little in the days before that. "Dahlia," he chose her name for a reason, she knew, and it made her immediately more alert, shifting in the blankets as to sit. He leaned back and straightened to give her her space now that she was awake. "Mirinda's Zaisavyth is proddy. She'll be in Fort in the morning." Dee's mind exploded. Briefly, she was grateful that not even this, that rocked her whole fragile world, woke Taeliyth, whose sleep had been equally frayed by the past sevens. She clamped down on her thoughts and feelings, focusing on drawing breath in through her nose and releasing it through her mouth. She focused her eyes on R'fyn and his serious expression; she traced the lines of his face that her fingers knew well (if not by heart). "They would have told me," she observed, letting herself have that curiosity of why it was him that was here. "I know. Raiv said Taeilyth was... that he thought it might best if you received the news before she did." Dee bit her lip. They'd talked about their relationships with their dragons, some small intimate bit of pillowtalk half-forgotten. He'd know that they didn't share everything as much as they had grown close in the months since their tumultuous beginnings. "Thank you for telling me," she said after another slow breath, shoving the blankets back and slipping out of her bed. "Open the glows?" Dahlia requested, "some of them, enough for me to pack by." "You'll leave?" He asked, not surprised, but thoughtful. "What choice do I have? If I stay, Taeliyth... She won't give up her Weyr without a fight. In this case, all too literally. I didn't survive the plague to die because the Weyr Council decided to throw her birthright to whoever might happen to get hot and bothered next." Dahlia knew as soon as she glanced at him that he was taken aback by her derisive tone. Anger wasn't any prettier on Dee than it was on any other woman. "Sorry. Not your fault." A nod accepted the apology. "Where will you go?" "Wherever will take me, I guess. I'll-- have to have Taeliyth get permission. At least the healers have said that it didn't appear those who'd survived could be reinfected, so that's something, but I won't wake her until I'm ready to go. The less time she has to argue with me the better." "You could go see Weyrwoman Nimae," R'fyn's words were contemplative. "I'm sure she would be sympathetic to a recently plagued weyrwoman barging into her Weyr in the dead of night to beg her favor in undoing this mess before it becomes more of one." Dee grimaced as she tossed a couple of blouses onto the bed next to a bag. "And she might've voted against me to begin with." R'fyn didn't make the argument that things might be different now that she was not going to die. He was smart, Dee realized as she looked at his expression. She'd known that he played chess, but she hadn't realized he played chess. She stopped, looking at him with her own sort of thoughtfulness. "What would you do?" "I don't know," he answered after a moment. "Time isn't on your side, Dee. Neither are politics. There's a chance that now that Nimae and Cora know it's to be Mirinda, you might have a chance. They might prefer you as senior, thinking they might get another shot at the same game in a turn or two, if you don't prove competent." Before, that would have hurt her - before she watched people who she was responsible for die to something outside of her control. Now, she accepted it as the candid assessment that it was. Dahlia tucked the outfits into the bag. "That's a fair point." She tugged the bag shut and secured it before nodding. "I could try it. Taeliyth won't like going, but if I tell her we're going to try, that'll help." "Do you want to try?" R'fyn's brows lifted. "I need to try." "That isn't the same thing." "I know," said Dee. She would have left it at that, but as she rounded the bed to lean up and kiss his cheek, he caught her hands and drew her surprised gaze to meet his own. She could read the concern there. Concern, not only for her, but as he spoke, she could hear the concern that he might be overstepping. "It might not be the best idea." The instinct to take offense, to be hurt, it was there, but it was easier to ignore now. It was good, really, this numbness. It let her think more clearly about things. What had he said? He hadn't said that it wasn't a good idea. He'd said it might not be the best idea. "What would be the best idea?" Dee asked with lifted brow. R'fyn took a breath and then gestured to the edge of the bed. She sat with him and let him take her hands in his. "I really don't have the experience to know this is the best idea, but it might be better than showing your hand so readily. If you go to Cora or Nimae now and tell them you want the seniorship and you don't get it, Mirinda might try to transfer you away from Fort, and then you're no good to us." His long fingers entwined with hers. "It's a gamble and given how readily they gave away your seniorship, I can't think that you have a lot of allies. You're young, you're unknown and what have you ever done for any of them?" Dee felt stupid. Her cheeks burned as the words sunk in. All she had was the backing of her own weyrleadership and maybe High Reaches, and compared to all the Weyrs of Pern, that wasn't many, and it wasn't enough. R'fyn squeezed her fingers to bring her mind back to the here and now. "Listen," was urgent. "While you've been sick, Hattie's been grieving. Erinta is covering her duties, yours and hers as best she can, but it's too much for one-- even two people. This illness is still ongoing. It's taken hold in Ruatha. Things are going to get worse for everyone before they get better." He took a slow breath. "Fort needs you, but right now, it might need Mirinda too." R'fyn bit his lip after the last word was out. Of all the things he had said to her, this seemed to be the one he was the least sure of. Dee sat, dumb in the dim light of the glows. It was a lot to digest. Time wasn't on her side in this either. "Seniorship is for life," she said slowly. "What if Mirinda takes it and keeps it? What if Taeliyth lives her whole life angry and bitter because I didn't fight now and win?" "How can she expect you to fight now and win? You've just finished fighting for your life," that much made R'fyn sound exasperated. There was a mutter of something unflattering about golds and their fool ideas. Dee ignored it. "What do you know about Mirinda?" It might not be reasonable of Dee to expect this lifelong Fortian to know much about foreign goldriders, but given his wealth of knowledge about the rest, it was worth a shot. R'fyn hesitated. "I know she gave up Zaisavyth's birthright in the Weyr she was born in and groomed to lead because it was the right thing to do." She listened. She tried to be open to listening. "Sometimes, Dee, the right move is to live to fight another day. If you go to the Weyr Council now, you're offering them your throat. Fort is going to need help this turn. Next turn. Maybe even the turn after. We might need transfers. We might need to make deals." R'fyn's explanation was urgent again, as if she might not hear the whole thing out, but she did. "Sometimes, the right move is to cultivate allies, to do good work, to get ready for when the right moment comes." She was suddenly aware of Taeliyth, listening. She didn't like it, but « He's not wrong. » She loathed to agree with him. Loathed to let some idiotic foreigner think she had any claim to the Weyr that was rife with her deep roots. Is now the right time for that kind of move? Dee didn't pretend to have a better grasp of these things than her dragon. Taeliyth didn't pretend she knew the answer beyond all certainty of doubt. « It seems like a smart move. » She considered the man sitting with Dee. « You should keep him close. » Grudgingly, « He sees more clearly than we do, » with the very emphatic qualifier: « sometimes. » Where will we go, then? « To Southern. » It was decisive. « I will ask Isyath. But you have seen too much death. You need to see life. Life is abundant in Southern. » Taeliyth recalled for her the lushness of the southern continent, the jungles and ocean. The Weyr. Her family. Her mother, her father, her brother and now her baby sister. Dee recoiled from the idea and R'fyn's fingers tightened in answer to her tension. She blinked. "Sorry. Taeliyth is awake." "Oh," sounded worried, but he didn't ask. "No, it's okay. She-- you-- we're going to Southern." "Not to Benden or Igen?" "No." Dee looked at him a long moment. "Will Raivajeth chase?" "And risk adding a brownrider as Weyrleader to the mess we're already in? Not a chance. Not this time." There was his smile. The nice smile. The one Dee liked so much. Even as she leaned to kiss his cheek, a pang of grief shot through her. She froze and then straightened gingerly. "Would you like to come with me?" R'fyn wasn't oblivious that something had changed. He gave her an apologetic look, "Can't. Quarantine." "Oh, right." Dee could feel the rise of a bush; how could she have forgotten? "Another time. When things are better." Better, Dee hung onto that word for a moment. Things felt like they'd only been getting worse and worse for so long that better seemed some unattainable dream. « It's not, » Taeliyth was certain of this. Dee took a breath and she felt something inside her shift It felt better. |
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