Logs:Weyrwoman
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| RL Date: 26 July, 2012 |
| Who: Leova, Iolene |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Leova drops in for her lunch visit and the two chat about... well... the ways of the world. |
| Where: Iolene's Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 5, Turn 29 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Tiriana/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Lujayn/Mentions, Brieli/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, Rynien/Mentions |
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| As spring becomes summer, that spring-to-summer breeze drifts through the curtains from the ledge into Iolene's new weyr. She's settled in fully now and there are obvious touches that this is now her space, from the giant mural of the ocean painted along one wall, to the bright white-washed furniture. Little pebbles decorate the hearth, where instead of a couch surrounding it, the meeting table has been pushed towards. And that's where Iolene sits, getting an early start on lunch by nibbling at a sandwich as she waits with no pretense of busy work to keep her distracted. The greenrider doesn't show up on time, but rather, a little while before Rukbat's right overhead. It's enough time for most women, and in this if nothing else Leova is no exception, to settle their breathing from the cross-Bowl walk and enjoy, even, the breeze through the sun through the shade of the cool stone. Her mahogany hair, still not yet sun-rusted, is neatly combed and pinned. Her clothes are plain but immaculate, even if her blouse required changing after the morning's family breakfast. Her nose isn't even as red, now, though remnants of the springtime cold follow her in the tiredness about her eyes. Or perhaps that's the family again. And when she enters at last, at that magic moment Vrianth sees... her footsteps are quiet, sedate, her amber eyes privately taking in all these changes from two Weyrwomen back. The sandwich alternates with her nails, until Iolene remembers not to gnaw and reverts back to the sandwich. But when the footsteps, quiet and sedate as they are, bring Leova into her weyr, the gnawed on nails and hand disappear underneath her and the sandwich gets quickly put down. She doesn't rise, only allowing expectant eyes to drift to the entrance and offers a very tentative little smile. "Hi. I mean, please, have a seat. I was-," she glances down at the half-nibbled sandwich, and adds an apologetic, "I got a little hungry." So Leova sits too, where she's directed, though nowhere near as casual as Iolene can afford to be. Though she does smile, too, after a moment. "Weyrwoman," but it's a little breathy, a little as though she can't be sure of the goldrider's intentions toward that or anything else, her tone saying it where words would take too, too long. There's a very visible flinch at the title. Maybe its the first time she's heard it. Or maybe it's the first time in this room she's heard it. And she's not very quick to school her expression back into that hesitant good cheer. But there is a breath, slowly drawn in and expelled, that precedes her second greet, "Hi. I mean. I'm just Iolene. Iolene." The second repetition of her name is a little more firm, and from that she gains strength. "Did you want juice? Are you feeling better? Something warm? Tea?" "Iolene," Leova confirms: she'll go along. Her mouth tips up at one corner, somehow more familiar than all the rest is, this spit-and-polish decorum. Her tone is lighter with it, though never voluble. "Somewhat. Thank you. Tea would be lovely," and is that little pause a bitten-off reminiscence, a little ragged moment like one of Iolene's nails, that might have described her predecessor but one? But it's such a very little pause. "I am sorry, that this wasn't earlier." Iolene has shifty eyes, as if she's not certain where to look to with Leova in her weyr. Getting the greenrider tea, however, is something to do that focuses her energy and attention at least momentarily. "It's not really a problem. I mean, it wasn't expedient really and-," mid-pour, she looks to a wall, the wall shared with K'del and then back abruptly in time to not spill the tea all over. "I was reminded I can take my time, and that changes shouldn't be done overnight." Leova sits still: easy for the goldrider to keep track of, not even a flinch at the not-spilling. "What can I do for you, Io? Iolene." The emphasis could go so many places, but instead it stays level, nearly gentle. Those eyes of hers shift again, swinging from the left to the right and back as her teeth gnaw slowly on her lower lip. Iolene pushes the tea forward to Leova and then starts to pour herself some juice, ultimately holding the chilled glass in her hands and then passing it back and forth in lieu of moving eyes. "I wanted your thoughts. I mean, your ideas. You seem like someone who would think about this kind of stuff frequently. K'del said that leaders should just hold the seat warm, in trust, for the future. I disagree and I wanted to know- I want to know how you think- think things could be better." It's all very vague, the pauses coinciding with those eyes lifting and seeking words or phrases. "It's kind of you to think of me that way." But. But. The pause calls for it, but there's none. Just a sip of tea, relief made visible, at least to a sore throat. "It would help if you pointed me to something specific. As is," and here Leova lifts both shoulders lightly before letting them fall, "I make a habit of trying to get along. Making do. Getting to point B. Don't know how specific it is, what you have in mind," and there's the space, the silent encouragement. Talk. Iolene's chin lifts, her head tilted just slightly as she listens to Leova, and her gaze slides from the far wall slowly to watch the greenrider. "People tell me it's always the way things have been done. That goldriders will always become Weyrwoman, as long as their dragon chooses to rise at the right time. So we're supposed to be trained for that what if possibility." Though, the chin drops and a crooked curve claims Io's mouth; that clearly did not happen with her. "And once you become Weyrwoman. You're Weyrwoman forever. Until you die, or choose to retire and- from what I know, what happened to Tiriana was very rare, if it even ever happened before. I think it's all stu- I think, there could be a better way. A way that takes into account everyone's abilities better and not just a lot of chance." The drink she holds is set down finally, the condensation wiped off against the side of her pants, before the sandwich is claimed. "I... just don't really know how to do it alone." That little change, not precisely a correction, brings a certain light to Leova's eyes, however shadowed it is by the decorous tilt to her head. "It would take a lot of convincing, I reckon," she agrees. "Training, of course, is useful no matter what a body's in line for. Do you know what that way is, that you want? Even if you don't know how to get there, yet. And," it isn't so much a hesitation as a step deeper into deference. "When Iovniath went up, that first time... perhaps you've heard how it felt. How everything changed. Though maybe it wasn't the same for everyone as us." "I've read." Which isn't the same as experiencing a change in leadership. "I read the histories and then what people think happened. That the Weyrwoman timed her death so that Iovniath would rise next. But even that doesn't work with how people say dragons just know. It's someone making a contrived situation to make sure what she thinks is best will happen next. It's not the dragons knowing." Iolene puts the quarter sandwich down, uneaten since Leova walked in. "I want something more merit based. Where good people, good leaders, aren't cast into certain roles simply cause their dragon can't lay eggs. Someone like- like Quinlys should be a leader of people, not just of one wing. Someone like-... someone not me. That's what I want." She's read, but even so Leova says baldly, "She decided when to kill herself, yes." She glances at the mural, regards it. It keeps her eyes for a little while. "Meant, though, more along the lines of how it felt, the... alignment... switching from Wyaeth to Cadejoth." But never mind that. "Something other than Weyrsecond, seems like? Something as what can't be taken back." "Something that's stable but also allows for change when things aren't going right. Like- like with Tiriana." Iolene concludes, a little release of relief in her breath. "And I find it hard to believe, as much as I love K'del, that the best man always becomes Weyrleader. Or that the best woman becomes Weyrwoman. He was /seventeen/ when he first became Weyrleader. I'm only just twenty." "Seems like he's tried to become a good Weyrleader. For what that's worth," Leova says after a moment. "And maybe she didn't. Or it just plain didn't work. A body could say that, well, maybe the person doesn't already know enough, isn't trained enough, isn't whatever enough, but maybe someone who's young's maybe also not so set in their ways, can listen and learn." There's that smile again, a little higher at that one corner. "Not saying that's what I'd say. Just... another possibility." "So what would you say?" Iolene dispenses with the back and forth conjectures and asks pointedly. "What do you think?" "I think," Leova says mildly, "Since you're asking. Every situation, it's got pluses and minuses. Like crafters: I've heard that sometimes it's not the best crafter who gets to Craftmaster, not the best at crafting at anyhow... and maybe it's not even the best person for ideas for organization, but it's the one enough people can agree on, and maybe he winds up owing things to people who put him there. And that maybe a lot of good crafters aren't so good with people, or they are good with people and their crafting knowhow, it gets wasted. And maybe for Holders, it's a fellow in the generation, and maybe he's raised and trained well, but maybe he isn't. Here... goldriders can be trained like holders train their heirs, can and should, and there are only a few choices instead of a generation's worth of Blood. Bronzeriders can be trained. Sent away, if need be. But really, the one good thing about the system is that the woman as who's in charge, and it is a woman for at least this one part of it instead of men so very many places else, she's got a way of controlling the rabble-rousers if she needs to. Quinlys, she's got a good head on her shoulders, but I don't reckon Olveraeth couldn't keep so many others down if he had a mind, and dragons, so much is emotion. Not saying it's perfect. If there's a better way, I'd like to know it. I would. And if there's a grand way to make sure leaders everywhere try to do what's right by their people, well, that's part of it too." "You've told me how it works now and why it works now, or how it fails. But you don't have any thoughts on how to better it." The disappointment is palpable in Iolene's voice. "How do you know that any of us... Brieli, Azaylia, Lujayn, that we'll be any good at being the Weyrwoman? Have you never thought you'd do better in Tiriana or Satiet's shoes?" There's a thin plaintive thread in the goldrider's words. "Haven't said anything on how to better it," Leova points out, a correction if a quiet one. "Reckoned you'd like a turn, hm? Part of what makes it better is when the Weyrwoman sets the example for everyone. When the Lord does. The Mastercrafter. I think you care. I think that if the setup stays the same, you'll try to make sure the girls, they know as much as they can, that they think about these things. And I know plenty of people who think they'd do better, and there are things I'd have done differently that I like to think would have made things better, but I try real hard not to assume as how I'd be better or agitate to try and run things myself. I got some months of extra training, sure, but that was then and there's a lot I don't know. I'm... sorry I don't have a presto-make-everything-better answer, Iolene, I am. What you're saying about merit, though. What does that look like, what you're thinking?" "I-, I don't know. An elected council of people who run and manage the Weyr apart from Thread? I'm realizing that even now, there are two different forces running a Weyr and that Weyrleaders command the Threadfighting forces while the Weyrwoman manages the Weyr itself. Why does it have to be a Weyrwoman that does that? Why is all diplomacy done through two people who, by chance, stumbled into their positions?" The sigh she exhales coincides with her shrug. "I guess there's no easy answer to what I'd like to do, but it doesn't mean we sit here and do nothing because it's just a trust to maintain." "Because men get to be not just weyrleaders but Weyr-leaders, while the women leaders take care of hearth and home," Leova murmurs in that smoky voice made lower by residual hoarseness. "Which isn't what you were after," that 'a' and all. But she said it anyway, felt free to say it anyway. "Got to agree. Figure out something, not just do nothing." Not even just sip tea, though she'll do that too. "So I get that messing with how the Weyr functions during a Pass might not be logical. But-, but-, who says that a man can't manage the hearth and home just as well as a woman can? Why can't we have-," Iolene throws her hands up in the air as if trying to grasp for some elusive idea that's not quite working verbally, "A Headman or something. I don't- I don't think the politics of an area should be driven by only two people. I don't think a Weyr should be able to help exile an entire population. Or that K'del has to bear the brunt of a decision made to execute a man turns ago, or the blame for me growing up on an island, not dying like the original holders intended. Or for agreeing to a policy by the old Lord to keep the exiles at the Weyr." "Steward," Leova offers somewhat wryly, and falls silent. She continues to watch Iolene, her expression muted to the last, and when she does finally speak it's not to the specifics. "What you're saying," she finally surmises. "It sounds like you're wanting people to share the decisions, and then share the credit or the blame." Though it's not lifted like a question, something about her voice asks for verification. Invites correction. "Or to balance each other out should a bad decision be made," is Iolene's immediate return. Something in this line of conversation renews her appetite enough for her to reclaim that sandwich an munch. "Not everyone to make a decision cause that could get chaotic since everyone has their own opinion, but if group of people everyone respected at least the majority of did... maybe there'd be less chance of poor decisions being made." Oh, the idealism. Which brings Leova's attention back to that sandwich, maybe too long, but she manfully sips her tea instead. Or maybe it's just Io's chin that's so enticing? "I'm not sure what you mean about balancing out if the bad decision is made," she admits. "The part about deciding together, trying to make sure there's less of a chance of the bad decision, that I get. Only thing is, just because a lot of people respect a body, doesn't mean that person really should be respected necessarily, though maybe I'm picking at nits there. And either way, a good side would be, the people... general people... would be more likely to think that the deciding-people meant well, that they did the best they can, and maybe they wouldn't be as bothered. Or maybe more understanding of mistakes." "Right now, only two people decide anything as far as I can tell. The wingleaders don't have a say. The Headwoman and her staff has no say. Two riders, who are picked by arbitrary methods, decide the fate of the Weyr." In an attempt to logic this out, Iolene's sandwich becomes a pointing device of sorts as what's left of it stabs at the air randomly. "I meant... not balance but make sure a bad decision doesn't get made. And the Weyrleader's position is usually a lot less secure than the Weyrwoman. Tiriana. If she wanted, she could just replace K'del, couldn't she have?" The greenrider's quick nod notes the clarification, then, "I see. Don't know that they're guaranteed a say, but if the Weyrleaders are smart, they listen to their people. Most times they know what they're doing. And wingleaders who aren't happy, who have their wings' support, can make life miserable for their higher-up even while they're looking dutiful. Same goes for the headwoman." But then Iolene's aware of that possibility, isn't she? "As for security, sure seems like the Weyrwoman's got more of that. But Tiriana's replacing K'del, well... Word is that she wanted someone else, the first time. Didn't much want him the second time either. You think she'd have hesitated to toss him out if it were that easy?" "If she thought she could get away with it?" Iolene asks rhetorically. "Yes. But I think Tiriana was more paralyzed by what she thought others would think of her than what she really wanted to do. And smart Weyrleaders might, but they're not required to. It should be they're required to, except then they could just make whoever they wanted wingleaders or headwomen. I don't think K'del gets along with all his wingleaders, and yet he maintains most of them." A beat passes. "Has he demoted or promoted anyone since becoming Weyrleader?" However dubious Leova might be, and a flicker of that must show in her expression, she doesn't argue the matter of Tiriana. Instead, "He's promoted some, seems to me. Demoted? Don't recall that." And then, with an echo of that earlier nod in her even quicker smile, "Do you reckon, if you'd been brought back and raised up as Lady Holder, you'd now be doing the same thing there?" "Do you-," Iolene considers Leova and then finishes her sandwich, buying time while chewing and looking to the greenrider. Once she's swallowed, she reaches for her juice again, but completes her thought first, "Do you think it's because he liked and worked well with his wingleaders, valued all their opinions, or because he didn't want to rock the boat?" As for what she'd be doing if she were a Lady Holder, that question draws wrinkles across her forehead. Wrinkles that Leova doesn't press into permanence, or not by choice. Sandwich-less, she leaves it at, "Don't reckon that I'm privy enough to his thoughts to speculate with much success. But I'd guess, to begin with, he didn't want to rock the boat. Did want to learn what he could. Didn't think he could assume what they'd be like with him. What their dragons would be like with Cadejoth, for all that there's that urge to fall in." The juice is sipped. Another sandwich taken, but uneaten. Theoretically; "Would you trust a wingleader who hated you to fly Thread with you? If you were Weyrleader." Iolene "Would it be better to replace someone like that, or to see how it works out?" "If I were Weyrleader." Leova sinks back in her seat, or rather, into the support of her hipbones. It could be so remote, and yet: "I'd want to put that wing away from mine, if Thread fell. Although," and here amber eyes seek out dark blue. "Depending on the man, upon what I knew of his ethics, upon what I knew of his skill... I might also trust him to hate me all he wishes on the ground and fly for the Weyr's sake, for our lands' sake, in the skies." "Are people so noble?" The sandwich is picked into pieces, eat small bit being squished down before eaten. "I think-," not leaving so much time for an answer to what must be rhetorical, "I think if there should be any change, now would be the best time to explore it. I didn't grow up in the Weyr, or in a Hold, or in a Hall. I don't know how things might have been different had I done so... we survived with a council, that wasn't always fairly selected," the latter she'll concede, Iolene's dark gaze drifting to those wafting curtains and perhaps, more likely, to a particular someone out there, "But it was maybe a step. I don't know how to convince K'del that now would be a good time to explore other options... I don't want to lose him." The last? It's quiet. It comes after a quick, sharp breath and uttered quickly, as if she might not have the courage if she waits too long to say it aloud. Sympathy stills the greenrider's gaze, a moment and then another before she blinks dryness, not wetness, away. "Perhaps sweep one room at a time," she suggests quietly. "Don't know how much you talked... but talk. Learn the place inside and out, the way it is, so he knows you understand. Think of what criteria you're looking for. Explain. Ask. Make it seem logical. Like you care. Seems to me, you care a lot... Don't know, though, if it felt that way to the women who lost most of their livelihood and their stipend and their respect all at once." Iolene is unfazed by the last and doesn't rise to the bait except to rise herself, physically. Though, perhaps it's what causes this polite door showing. "Even though you didn't eat," a glance takes in the sandwiches that she's made inroads on, "It was nice spending lunch with you. I wanted to know what you thought cause I know we haven't always agreed in the past and I don't want people to just tell me what they think I want to hear." Which might account for the interesting choices in guests in the last month. "Thank you. For coming. Eventually." "I appreciated the tea that you offered," Leova says simply, now that she's stood as well, though even that hasn't been drained. "Good day, Iolene. Weyrwoman." She takes nothing else with her, not even a last glance at the mural and its memory of the sea. |
Comments
Azaylia (Dragonshy) left a comment on Fri, 27 Jul 2012 04:52:05 GMT.
o3o Engaging.
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