Logs:Who Monitors the Monitors?
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| RL Date: 18 September, 2012 |
| Who: Brieli, Hattie |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Brieli and Iesaryth go to Fort to see Elaruth's clutch. Brieli and Hattie finally have a conversation. No one dies! |
| Where: Galleries, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 10, Turn 29 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions, N'rov/Mentions, Ali/Mentions |
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| The tide slips in and starts to rise, salt-water careful not to intrude into the marshy quiet of the Fortian queen's thoughts, but the rise and fall of waves make a pleasant, soothing sound. Iesaryth is as polite as ever in her inquiries, but this time, there's a different quality to her interest - it's not the same sort of visit as usual that she has in mind. But still, tentative and curious, « We would like to see your clutch, Elaruth, if you do not mind. » Iesaryth will even see it through her rider's eyes if necessary; she seems already aware of potential concern on Elaruth's - or her rider's - part. (Iesaryth to Elaruth) The conflict that occurs is obvious if only because it momentarily upsets the balance in the marshland in a way that Iesaryth's mental touch does not. Shallow water shades dark, reed beginning to crack at their very roots, until instinct is suppressed by reason and shadows clear, mist restored to its usual brightness. Attention to potential threat- even a weyrling one - first, pride second. Why /wouldn't/ anyone want to see her clutch? « She may see, » is a low whisper through those reeds. « You will please remain on the rim of our bowl, Iesaryth. » She's never made such a request before; never tried to restrict the younger queen's movement. But that was before what she now protects. (Elaruth to Iesaryth) Iesaryth might be mildly darkened by the request, a few clouds rolling in over bright seas, but while she doesn't entirely understand, there's a part of her that feels that need to protect, that is drawn to Elaruth's concern. Even if she can't quite quantify it yet. Tenor disappointed, she nonetheless agrees. « I will drop her off and go there. » She hopes it's not for all time, maybe just while hers looks at the eggs, but she doesn't argue. « We will be glad to see it. Thank you, Elaruth. » Even if she can't really /see/, is dying of curiosity, for apparently, this is her future. (Iesaryth to Elaruth) Hopefully Iesaryth does not take it personally that Elaruth is so thoroughly on-guard following their communication, though there a few practical ways of proving that the reaction is not unique to her, short of inviting other foreign queens to Fort's skies, Isyath's the only gold presence that does not unnerve or unsettle. The little queen is as she has been for days, curled around her clutch, brightest and largest of the eggs tucked close to her chest, alertness betrayed by the flick of her white-gold tail and tension in her shoulders, focus equally on the entrance to the cavern and the galleries. Hattie stands as though chained and rooted to the Sands, one hand pressed gently to pale hide, as if mental communication alone isn't enough to calm her lifemate. Iesaryth might be a little disappointed, and she might try not to take it /too/ personally, but she's still young - there's a bit of sadness there, but nothing that her usual good-natured, relaxed mood can't do away with shortly. She'll land in the bowl far from the hatching galleries themselves to let her rider dismount - and then it's away to the rim, which is nice enough for watching the bowl traffic anyway. So it takes time for Brieli to make her way into the galleries, but when she does, it's with a quick, long-legged stride that pauses as she enters, sees Hattie and Elaruth on the sands; when she continues, it's a slower pace down to the railing, to where she can say in earshot, "My duties to Fort and her queen, and her clutch. I won't stay long." She's been informed. Elaruth's weight shifts as she curves her neck back to peer over at Brieli, intense, yellow-flecked stare given the weyrling goldrider, as though she sees not the woman herself, but Iesaryth. "Hush," Hattie murmurs, both hands against hide now as her queen threatens to unfurl wings and stubbornly obscure her clutch entirely from view, back in the throes of instinct, fighting the reason that her rider attempts to force upon her. Scarred wings rustle, but do not unfurl, leaving eggs free for all to see, only one partially obscured by the curl of her tail about it. Only once it seems that Elaruth will settle does Hattie turn from her and make for the stands; for Brieli. "And to you and your queen," is as much concession as she will make as far as manners go, sincere enough without mention of home or other queens. "You might have better luck another day. She goes through... cycles, though I'm afraid it's doubtful that she'll let Iesaryth in here." The woman herself is calm and collected enough that even Elaruth's stare isn't too unnerving; her dragon might not quite understand, but Brieli seems to. She's still and quiet until the queen is settled, though as Hattie makes her way to the stands, she does offer quietly, "You have lovely eggs, Elaruth. You should be proud." There's an echo of agreement from high up on the bowl's rim, but little else. The Fortian Weyrwoman's lack of acknowledging much more than herself seems expected - likely why she offered her duties rather than that of her Weyr. "Thank you. And thank her for allowing it - and allowing us to visit as often as we have. I understand they're all different, with the eggs. She wonders what it will be like. But yes, we can see if there's another time. Or there's the hatching, I imagine." A pause before, "It's nice to meet you. I apologize for being remiss in introductions. I was... enjoying the lack of monitoring." Her tone is wry for that. What can you do? Not vain, Elaruth will still take pride in her clutch and accept the compliment for what it is, senses finely-tuned to catch Brieli's quiet words; perhaps to even catch Iesaryth's echo on some level. It's enough to ease the yellow from her gaze and the tension from her shoulders, attention now paid to eggs so often adjusted ever so slightly. "I was wondering whether manners would prompt you to approach me sooner," Hattie confesses, pausing to quickly stamp sand from the tread of her boots. "Then, I don't expect that our N'rov went and introduced himself to your Weyrleader. I'm sure you must understand that there are areas of this Weyr that you aren't permitted to visit. Our Records among them." Hardly a welcome, but she does not suggest that there'll be monitoring beyond that. A nod skywards, towards the bowl's rim, has her asking, "How old is she now?" Seeming a bit more relaxed herself for both Hattie's ease and Elaruth's, Brieli doesn't yet sit, but leans on the railing as the Weyrwoman stomps the sand away. A constant battle, no doubt. Her smile as wry as her tone, "No, I don't expect that he has, or will make a point of it in the future. Though Vhaeryth was fairly confused. My apologies for the lapse - sometimes, there's not much time for socializing." It's not said suggestively, but she's not embarrassed about /why/ she's visiting either. With an equitable shrug, "Of course. It would be much the same anywhere, I'd think, yes? Though Monaco is quite accommodating... but I think they have some affection for her." Not for the weyrling herself? Or she's just demurring. Smile shifting into something more genuine, "She's just eleven months. She's a little ways off from her own clutch. I hope. It seems... not all that exciting. No offense meant." "Your personal life - and N'rov's - is none of my concern," Hattie declares bluntly. "Should it begin to affect Fort somehow, then matters will be different, but I know something of being involved with someone from the 'wrong' place. It isn't easy." And, perhaps because of that, she seems content enough to leave them alone, for now. As for restrictions, she has a shrug of her own to share and a rather more judgemental, "Some people believe that rank - even impending rank - gives them free reign over all they see." Out on the Sands, Elaruth makes a minute adjustment to the gold egg hugged close, tipping it /that/ way /just/ a little, while her rider gestures to a pile of hidework abandoned in one row of seating, gaze encompassing the cavern as a whole. "It's not often exciting," Hattie agrees. "But she's happy and content for the most part, so I'd gladly have it happen more often." That might surprise Brieli a little, but she manages to limit that to a few blinks before sincerely, "I appreciate that. I--" She considers Hattie for a moment sidelong before straightening off the railing, turning her way, leaning a hip against it. "I'm not very used to my personal life being anyone's concern. Or having much of one to begin with," she admits easily enough, perhaps due to the other goldrider's own confession. As for the matter of rank, glancing at the gold egg, "I'm still but a weyrling, ma'am. And I've always felt respect should be earned, though there's something to offering a little in good faith." Looking back towards the hidework, tone amused, "At least there's something to keep you busy. And is she? Is this when she's happiest? I wonder about Iesaryth - she's often lazy, but her mind is restless and her body follows." "You get used to it," Hattie answers wryly, not unkind for all her continued plain-speaking. "And then, hopefully, you learn to ignore it. I can't say that I've learned to do that all that well, but down the road of letting them," whoever they are, "win lies madness." Dark eyes find Elaruth again, who has decided that another of her eggs needs a nudge, burying it a touch more deeply in the sand. "Bring Bijedth in here and she'd probably be quite happy if time froze," she jokes through a low chuckle. "She knows this is what she's meant to do. She knows she's a good mother. Her children are important to her." However: "I wouldn't say all queens are the same. Isyath was... not particularly maternal about her first clutch. I suppose it depends on whether they see their clutch as a duty or something that restricts them. Elaruth just knows it's something she /wants/ to keep safe." "Oh, good." That's all sarcasm there, but not directed at the Weyrwoman, more at the nebulous 'them' - the gossips, the disapproving... K'del. Brieli wrinkles her nose a touch for the idea, agreeing over a sigh, "It's getting better. I hope I can become better at ignoring it. Some people seem to manage to." The twist of her lips isn't entirely without a certain irritation, a darker note suggesting she might mean that on a few levels. But it passes in a flash, with a quick smile for Elaruth's attachment to her mate, the protective instinct. "It's funny, that. How they know. How different they are about something you might expect to be similar. But there's different sorts of parenting, yes?" In regards to Isyath, there's a odd little quirk of lips before lightly, "Perhaps her rider is maternal enough for both of them. And I understand that. I think Iesaryth does too, on some deeper level." "Isn't it?" Hattie aims to mimic Brieli's sarcasm, twisting it into something like sympathetic misery. Better to abandon that in favour of safer ground. "For all that they're the same colour and should serve the same purpose, supposedly, perhaps we shouldn't expect them to be any more similar than every woman is," she murmurs in agreement. "Some of them discard their mates, some of them don't guard their clutches, some of them stay loyal to the same bronze turn after turn... They're like any other woman, just... different." Her, "Maybe that's true," is ambiguous enough to refer to Ali or parenting or Iesaryth, no clarification given. Straightening her shoulders, the Weyrwoman prepares to head back down to the Sands, Elaruth's focus having lifted and fixed upon her in a undemanding, yet intent manner. "You're welcome to stay," she assures, turning away. "But if you start collecting intelligence for reports, I might have to banish you." Joking, one hopes, deadpan enough to not be entirely obvious with it; wry enough to a throwaway line. Giving a little laugh, "It is what it is." Brieli will likewise leave it there, not all that interested in discussing either of their issues with gossip. "I think Iesaryth might dislike the thought that it's her sole purpose... as much as it might be in many ways. She's so... bright. It feels like a waste, in some ways, given her memory. But you're right. All people are different about their children. Why not dragons?" If Hattie's answer is ambiguous, so too is her smile, and perhaps how she takes the response. "Mmm, many things are." Dark eyes flicker Elaruth's way, noting that intent, before she repeats, "I won't stay long. But we might be about." Visiting, no doubt. With a flash of a grin for potential banishment, she asks, "What shall I report on? The colors? The way she moves them?" Shaking her head, leaning on the railing again, "I'll do my best to avoid being barred. It would be inconvenient." At best. "Have a good day, Weyrwoman. Her patience is appreciated." There's a nod for the queen - and though she'll linger in the galleries for a time, she's true to her word, leaving after a decent look at the clutch, so as not to agitate dragon /or/ rider. |
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