Logs:Those Left Behind
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| RL Date: 23 March, 2009 |
| Who: Tiriana |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: Tiriana's reaction. |
| Where: Tiriana's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 13, Month 4, Turn 19 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Satiet/Mentions |
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| Tiriana woke an instant before the keening began, her stomach knotting. She knew, somehow, even before Iovniath could put it into words for her: Teonath, Satiet, had gone. She panicked. Satiet couldn't just be gone, couldn't have just left her, them, all of them there without her. Tiriana half-fell out of bed in her haste, stumbled over her clothes and pulled them on without thinking about it. And she ran, though it wasn't far; just that sort distance to the Weyrwoman's weyr, as though it was all some sick watchrider's joke, as though Satiet'd be sitting there, smirking at them while they all panicked. But she wasn't. There wasn't even anything of her left in the weyr, hardly; it'd been stripped of its personality, of all her touches. Tiriana dimly realized that this must have been coming for some time, that the place had looked something like this since she had returned from Ierne. It didn't make it any easier to bear: despite all those warning signs, the worry that had niggled her since before she ever left, Tiriana had somehow still never expected this. The dragons were still keening while Tiriana slid down to a seat on the dragon's couch, empty now. Somehow, she still didn't dare, or want to, venture further into Satiet's home. While Iovniath, even despite her keening, sent R'uen and Zaiventh away--this wasn't the time for Fort to intrude on the Reaches' grief--Tiriana pulled her knees up to her chest and cried. She didn't know exactly how long she sat there: long enough to get cold and stiff, anyway, her eyes aching. The keening died away eventually, and Iovniath reached back out to her, all muted, melancholy snow, just barely covering the jagged ice beneath. « Tiriana. » No answer. « Tiriana, » said Iovniath. « Tiriana, come back. She's left you something. » "I don't care." « Please. » And finally, Tiriana scrubbed her face off on her shirt, although it was already well-soaked. She shuffled the short walk back to her weyr, back to Iovniath to lean against the gold's cheek. "I think my shirt's inside-out," she mumbled. « It will be okay, this time, » Iovniath assured her, though her own voice was raw in Tiriana's head. « There, on the table. » Tiriana put off looking for several minutes more, until finally she had to steel herself and check. There, on her table, was the Weyrwoman's knot, and a folded letter. Tiriana shoved the knot off to the floor, where it landed without any satisfying shattering sound. The letter, at least, crumpled up in her hand while she fumbled it open, trying not to tear it up and mostly succeeding. And inside: Tiriana, I have no doubts you won't be reading this letter until much later, but if you still are crying, you should stop. If you're throwing your pretty things at the wall, you should probably stop that as well. Frankly, it'll be a bitch to clean up. Here's what you're not allowed to do: * You are not allowed to fire the healers. It's not their fault. * You are not allowed to fire the Headwoman. Trust me, you need her more than she needs you. * You are not allowed to spend the rest of the day crying. If you're useless to everyone when you're not crying, you're triple useless when you are. Here's what you should do: First. Put on a brave face for the rest of the Weyr. Remember that it's you who wears the senior queenrider's knot with all its intricate tassles and loops, that people, however dubiously, will look to for their next cue. Frankly, there was more than one occasion where I wished I could burn it. After a while, the implications of your rank might weigh as heavily on your shoulders as it did mine. Second. Fire N'thei. Make F'rint the acting Weyrleader. Is it news that being Weyrleader makes our Weyrleader miserable? Have the Headwoman stock N'thei's weyr with whatever liquor is available. F'rint will know how to manage N'thei and the rest of the wings. Milani will know how to manage the lower caverns. Between the two of them, you should be set for the oncoming weeks until you find your balance in all this. Third. Refrain from moving into the Weyrwoman's weyr just yet. While it is most likely Iovniath will rise, and soon, try to, at least, pretend to be a little gracious about the prospect of being the senior. Fourth. Remember you are and will be the next Weyrwoman at High Reaches Weyr. You have nothing to prove to people by being the defensive, self-centered girl you are. You have nothing to gain by inflicting your will with brute force. I told you one day that I would choose my time to die, and remember that, to the end, I controlled as much of my life as possible. The time I chose was earlier than I wished, but I chose now, rather than after. You are selfish, spoiled, defensive, and vacillate between self-aggrandization and petulant self-pity. You can't be both confident and defensive. Choose one way and stick to it. Stand by it. Who cares what anyone else thinks. When it comes to leadership, you either are, or you're not and I happen to believe you are. Stop crying. Don't fuck this up. Satiet Somehow, it made Tiriana almost laugh, a strangled tearful sound. Couldn't fire the healers, couldn't fire Milani, was supposed to fire the one person she actually didn't really want to fire... Satiet might as well be hiding in the corner even now, for all her eerie accuracy. « Now if only we had some pretty things that had survived this long, we could stop throwing them, » said Iovniath, wryly. « Now, come here. You should sleep; it's nearly morning and today will be long. » I should... I should. I don't know. I need to do something. I need--. « It will keep, love, » said Iovniath. « Just sleep. » So Tiriana did, curling back up against Iovniath's chest, while the young queen looked out over their Weyr. |
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