Logs:Tense(s)
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| RL Date: 6 November, 2015 |
| Who: Hattie, E'dre |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Of professional and personal changes. |
| Where: Council Room, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 3, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Harriet/Mentions, X'vin/Mentions, Nimarie/Mentions, N'rov/Mentions, Ebeny/Mentions, Elayne/Mentions |
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| Hematite's drills must be being run by one of their wingseconds as the Acting Weyrleader and Wroth are nowhere to be seen in the bowl this morning. The council room is quiet this morning, save for the occasional cough from E'dre as he works on documents spread out before him. He's got his usual mug of klah and a plate of pastries untouched beside him, the tasks set before him deemed of higher importance than his morning meal. He takes a moment to stare at a particular record and then snorts before he sets it aside in the pile he's begun to form of things to be discussed with Hattie. From the way of the Weyrwoman's weyr, Harriet's indignant howl can be heard echoing along the short corridor, raised voices - one of which is identifiable as Hattie's - lifting over the baby's crying, until the sounds of unhappy child retreat and are replaced by footsteps belonging to a harried mother, who attempts to seem not so harried by sheer force of will, expression forced to an uneasy neutrality as she enters the council room. Hattie doesn't speak when she claims her usual seat; she merely sits down and draws hide and pen from her satchel, to wait expectantly and entirely without remark. E'dre looks up at the sounds of the baby crying and the raised voices with lifted brows, so he's got eyes on Hattie as she makes her way in. He rises wordlessly from his seat and moves to the table set in the back that hosts a still warm kettle of water and goes about making the Weyrwoman a cup of tea. He returns to her side and sets it down without any other greeting. He settles back in his chair, grabs the stack he's set aside for her to look through, and slides it her way. Maybe this will be a silent meeting as E'dre then returns to his own stack and takes the time to sip from his klah. Hattie doesn't offer her Weyrleader any thanks for the tea, not until she's taken the time to settle into a stillness only broken by her reaching for the mug to take slow sips, the tension that's hiked her shoulders high gradually easing, little by little. Only when she's not longer visibly clenching her jaw to maintain the blandness of her expression does she sigh out a low, "Thank you," over the rim of her mug and swing her gaze beyond some distant horizon that only she can see, to focus on E'dre himself, brownrider watched with a steady gaze. E'dre looks up from his reading, leveling a bland expression on Hattie. "Of course," is a simple enough answer, but rather than let silence linger between them, he continues, "Those are the ones regarding that tax. I've had a few more complaints come in about it from our riders. I don't do anything more than tell them not to worry about it. There's also the rumor that I fund Hematite's drinking and gambling these days." A sigh for that, a shake of the head, and a roll of the eyes followed. "Other than that, there isn't too much that I've got to report to you." He pauses to drink some klah as he leans back in his chair. With some evident reluctance, Hattie draws some of the documentation regarding the first matter towards her, its contents given a cursory once-over before she tries to smother the sound of another, sharper sigh. "All this is doing is creating bad feeling and manipulation of numbers that might not even be accurate in the first place," she declares. "I'm tired of it. We were never on our knees, no matter what was implied. I think it's about time this came to an end; there are better ways to make marks if we need them than pulling them from our own riders' pockets." She looks back up, only to ask, "Do you?" in so deadpan a manner that it's difficult to tell if the enquiry is genuine. "You've savings, I suppose." "Of course," E'dre replies with absolutely no hesitation. "I wasn't going to have my top riders not be able to burn off some steam." He shrugs and takes another glance down at a record before he flips it over and steeples his fingers together on the table. "Let's end it then. Regardless of marks and budgets, the Weyr is functional. People are fed. Items are had. I'm not in the mood to negotiate with Holders, but if it comes to that I will." He reaches for a pastry and then slides the plate towards Hattie. Hattie takes his response in her stride, acknowledged for what it is with a slight bob of her head. "I'll discuss the matter with Erinta and make sure that the protocols are removed," she replies, almost at the same time. "It'll take a little while for documentation and procedure to be altered to reflect the changes, so I'll need a few days before it's actively shut down across the Weyr. I imagine word will get out before then, but we all need to be on the same page and prepared to work according to the same rules for things such as requisitions before we move forward." She twitches one shoulder. "There are worse things than negotiating with holders. Sometimes, some of the smaller holds are actually more obliging than the larger." "Thank you," E'dre makes sure to say in regards to the discussion Hattie has proposed. "I think it'll reduce a lot of tension amongst residents and riders alike. I'm sure there are more people disgruntled than those who felt confident in approaching me with their grievances." He shakes his head and takes another sip of his now cold klah. "I've found the smaller holders to be more agreeable of late. Especially when I take the time to go and visit their holds, listen to their needs, see what I will accommodate." He twitches a shoulder. "Not as much arrogance as some, I suppose. Though what they could ultimately do for the Weyr is limited." "A single cothold alone, perhaps," Hattie allows, "but what a band of smaller holds could do for us is only as limited as what we're willing to do for them." She leans back in her chair. "No," she says, somewhat dryly, "not as much arrogance as some." At least she doesn't look at E'dre when she speaks so, her attention drifting to the blank hide she's set out for notes, which soon finds itself scribbled upon in an odd shorthand. "I've made some appointments with some of the holds towards the north of our coverage, mostly to see if they're producing anything new this spring." The Weyrwoman arches a brow. "That, and I promised Nimarie a day out." What fun for a child. "A band of them to do what exactly?" E'dre queries, still skeptical and not so transformed that he can go further than thinking some holders may benefit them. He lifts a brow at her dry reminder of who may be the more arrogant in the room between them. He glances at his own notes and then shifts the pile as an excuse for his hands to move. "I hope you can schedule some time at a hold that has something fun for her to do. When I visited a friend recently, Elayne could not get enough of riding this small, fat, runner." His features freeze at the mention of his daughter and then he reaches for his klah to finish. He's up and moving to refill his mug before the conversation can continue further on the subject of children. "If we were to drop all these silly pretences, we could simply exchange fields sown with what we need for the sort of work that they need from us," Hattie says about as levelly as she can manage in the face of scepticism. "But their tithe to us isn't their first concern, and they all must earn their own living, which is why it's not so easy a thing." She keeps from looking at E'dre as she admits, "It was Nimarie's idea, actually. Apparently, she wants to see what mummy does on her visits elsewhere. Since she's apt to be disarmingly precocious, her presence might serve better than a true diplomat's." It's then that she allows herself to ask, "Are you going to tell me why the Weyrlingmaster is in another weyr?" "Maybe we should find an agreeable group and suggest such an arrangement to see where it'd take us. Maybe if we took over the place of a Lord Holder and became their main source of means outside of what they can produce, it'd work," E'dre replies thoughtfully as he heads back to the table. "It may be along the lines of what X'vin was trying for, though he was aiming big. We could aim small." He's mid-sip of his refreshed mug of klah when Hattie asks her question and he sighs once his mouthful is swallowed. "She's pregnant with N'rov's baby and intent on ruining our relationship," he delivers with a harshness of belief. "I cannot appease her in any manner. So she's moved out. And I've scheduled to collect our children tomorrow." He shakes his head and tips his head back to stare up at the ceiling. "I'll manage on my own, I imagine. But-, I had thought it'd've helped her." "Therein lies the problem," Hattie answers dryly. "No Lord or Lady Holder is going to want us in that kind of role and usurping their prerogatives." Though it's not, from her tone, designed to be argument, more incomprehensible notations jotted down on that hide. The looks she levels on E'dre is far more hesitant than her words, yet eventually she takes a deep breath and broaches, "...You... understand that women aren't always... themselves when they're pregnant?" rather slowly. "If she's already struggling, adding three children into the mix..." She shrugs. "But I suppose she's made her choice, then. And you've made yours." "She has no weyrlings anymore and no reason why she couldn't care for her children," E'dre defends his decision, tensing against the reality Hattie is carefully laying before him. "The girls already know. I can't take it back." He looks away from her then and sighs, "I'll fuck it up just like I did with Elayne. And N'rov will fuck it up, and then Ben will stay fucked up, and it'll be a mess for a long time." He shakes his head and reaches for his notes to gather to him. "Is there anything else you needed to discuss?" he queries, "I think I've said all I needed to say in this meeting." "I think you have the wrong tense there." Hattie gathers up her own notes and reclaims her satchel from the floor, looping its strap over her shoulder. "If you're carrying on like this, then I think you are fucking it up, not will," she tells him bluntly. "It's a good job - for me at least - that you're currently a better Weyrleader than the weyrmate you're making yourself out to be. I hope that you're being too harsh on yourself." A little clumsily, she reaches for her mug and drains the dregs of her tea. "Stay here," must be advice, though it sounds like a command. "You might be better not meeting with anyone else for a little while. I'll go and seek out Erinta now." When she moves from the room, she doesn't look back, though not a half hour passes before she sends a meal more substantial than pastries to the council room. |
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