Difference between revisions of "Logs:Fortune Favors the Lonesome"

>---< Grounds, Nabol Hold(#1890RJ) >-----------------------------------------<

  A land of gently rolling hills and dark soil, Nabol stretches out across  
  the southern end of High Reaches' territory. Most of the land is devoted  
  to sprawling farms and orchards; even the fallow areas are overgrown      
  forests of apple and other fruit trees. A number of rivers and smaller    
  streams cut across the land, providing excellent irrigation. With the     
  temperate climate and abundant greenery, animals are widespread, frequent 
  visitors to the forests and fields. The main Hold rises abruptly up from  
  the land, a fortress carved into cliff faces that spring from the valley  
  around it.                                                                
                                                                            
  Rukbat is barely noticeable behind a layer of dull gray clouds. The day   
  stays dark and drab, without even rain or snow to break the bleakness of  
  the overcast weather.

Nabol has seen better turns, but then, it's also seen worse ones. With Lady Tevrane at the helm since mid-turn 33, things are back to a more normal beat (well, more normal than an army roaming the countryside pressing boys into service and burning crops), even with the unfortunate events of the highwaymen of the past summer. Certainly, it hasn't affected today's gather, which is witnessing at least a lack of snowfall, even if there's residual on the ground. Inside the dance pavilion, the evening is just getting started and while the dancers whirl to the lively fresh-fingered strum and beat of the Harpers' tunes, Lycinea sits alone at a table in a pale pink dress that is neither flashy nor especially expensive, but nicely made. Her hair is braided into an elegant up-do and there's the touch of cosmetics to her face, but none of that helps her gloomy expression, a sharp contrast to all the merriment around her.

It has been some time since the shadow of a large gold had passed over the dancing pavilion, unnoticed under the festive lights and pouring drinks and music. Long enough for her rider to step inside and shed her coats to an attendant, only to be immediately greeted by this person or that, attention drawn more for the gold-threaded knot on her shoulder than the velvety, silver drape of her dress which, other than that luxurious fabric, is cut simply; long-sleeves, a square neck, red-gold hair pulled upwards into some semblance of elegance as well. As soon as Lilah has extricated herself and found a glass, though, her path marks a circle around the floor of the dancing, attempting to avoid it. That she notices the unhappy girl and shifts so that she ends up near her is just curiosity, given that she is nosy enough to study her subtly and try to track where Lycinea is looking.

Mostly, Lycinea is trying not to look anywhere. That kind of thing just invites the sort of-- crap. She must have accidentally made eye contact. She puckers her lips into a bill, giving a withering look to a boy about her age who veers sharply away at the non-verbal but oh-so-clear rebuff, and he goes away, to which the girl seems to sigh in relief that betrays her confidence in the gesture as false, and she shifts uneasily, perhaps trying to make herself look smaller when her eyes cast anxiously toward the door before coming back to rest on the table.

"Was he inappropriate, or did he break your heart?" is the question that comes from the woman nearby, directed towards the younger. Lilah's voice is a smooth thing, a honeyed alto that holds a dry edge at the moment. Those dark eyes have returned to Lycinea by the time the goldrider speaks, though she doesn't move from nearby.

It's probably the fact that it's a feminine voice that addresses her that spares Lilah an immediate replay of Lya's side of recent events. The way the girl's blue-green eyes pause on Lilah's knot probably gets her an answer at all, and one that isn't distinctly less polite. "He's a stranger," and that's apparently reason enough. She does add a quieter, "Ma'am," to play pretend that she learned something in her harper classes before she escaped them.

Other, softer weyrwomen may offer their own names at this point, but despite the deceptiveness of Lilah's features, she does nothing of the sort. Instead, she only slides a thoughtful look back to the boy that earned Lycinea's glower, making no attempt to hide it as she considers him and then returns her attention to the girl. "Then, not your type? Or are you not interested in flirting this evening?" are the goldrider's follow-up questions. If she is bothered by the lack of politeness, it doesn't show.

"I'm not interested in flirting ever," the reply is so swift in coming that it must either be the truth or a well-rehearsed lie. It probably didn't even go through a filter of any kind before finding its way to her lips. Lya shifts a little uneasily. "I came with my friend, only he-- met someone," there's color in her cheeks for that. "And I'm just-- waiting for them to... finish, or whatever." One hand rises to touch her hair awkwardly, probably thinking to pull fingers through it, but it's up, so she grasps at air before settling for tucking a stray tress behind her ear. She clears her throat then and says, "What about you, ma'am? Shouldn't you be... I don't know doing diplomatic dancing or something?" It's asked out of ignorance, because she sounds like she really doesn't know what a weyrwoman's duties might be at a gather.

"I'm not interested in dancing, though I am too old to say ever," counters Lilah dryly, amusement found in dark eyes that is very likely at the younger woman's expense rather than anything else. "So, your plan then is to sit in a corner and have no fun until he returns? He didn't break your heart, did he?" is asked of the absent friend, her brows curving upwards in curiosity as she slips a look over Lycinea. "I guess I shouldn't judge. Two turns ago, you'd find me doing the same." As if she isn't in a corner right now, too.

"No," of her friend, "he's a greenrider. They like men." Greenriders do. Lycinea says it very off-handedly, as if a girl couldn't be in love with someone who wasn't inclined toward her gender (if that was even true in Z'riah's case) and moves right along. "I don't like crowds. Or strangers. It's better if I just sit here and keep some space instead of getting lost. I'm not sure I'd be able to find him again anyway, if I move." She hasn't bothered to wear her knot on her dress, it's not that impressive anyway. "So now you can't do the same thing or you don't want to?" comes her curious question to the redhead, canting her head slightly to look at her, despite her profession that she dislikes strangers. Perhaps it's strangers as a grouping and not particular strangers she means.

Lilah's lips twist into a smile at Lycinea's off-handed remark about greenriders, yet despite being a dragonrider herself, she makes no move to leap to the defense of greenriding males everywhere to correct the younger woman's assumptions. Instead, she tips her chin in acknowledgement even as she takes a slow sip of her wine. It's after that she answers, "I want to, but I've learned to suck it up. Even for the most junior of goldriders, sitting in a corner and glaring at any man that dares to ask you to dance is considered impolite." She considers Lycinea for a long moment, the weight of her gaze unerring and giving little away. "What is his dragon's name? I can have Eliyaveith bespeak her, and find your friend. Though what she would be interrupting--."

"Oh, no, it's-- fine. Friends don't cockblock friends-- er." Because saying this to a foreign goldrider is right up there with grabbing her own breasts in front of the senior of her own Weyr. Lya's really racking up those points! Her cheeks are flushed. "Anyway, I can-- I don't know. Use the time to reflect. I'm-- supposed to be making some big life decisions, or something." One hand moves to rub awkwardly at the side of her neck. She might be wearing the dress and have the hair and the cosmetics, but this is obviously not really her element, at least not when she's alone. "So do goldriders, like, have to say yes to whoever asks them to dance if they're anybody who's not invisible?"

"Mm, sometimes a friend deserves to be cockblocked," drawls from the lips of the junior weyrwoman, tipping her glass in a gesture towards the younger woman as if bidding her to mark this sage, worldly advice given. "Sometimes your friends don't know what is best for them." There is a hint of something buried there, but Lilah doesn't dwell on it as she shakes her head, simply. "I've said no often. Whether they were the most political no's-- Mostly they have been to other wingleaders and Weyrleaders, at least." Her interest, however, is mostly caught by the other thing she said. Gently, the goldrider pries, "Big decisions of what?"

Lycinea scrunches up her face. "Bronzeriders are the worst at taking 'no's." She considers the Fortian a moment before saying, "But they probably don't give you trouble. You're a weyrwoman, and all-- like-- poised and stuff." She's probably not thinking about the political ramifications of it all, but then that's above her pay grade. The teenager shifts on the bench hunching her shoulders and then almost immediately unhunching them as awareness of the movement comes to her. "Well, it was my turnday yesterday," the beginning is awkward, but as she goes on, Lya's speech becomes a little smoother, "And I really hate working in the kitchens, and they hate me working there too, so they had me start working in the caverns, too, only I don't like that any better, doing weird and gross jobs, so I asked Headwoman Giorda if I could shadow some people doing their jobs to see if I could find something I liked better, only I haven't yet, and I'm going to have to decide soon." She frowns, and then adds hurriedly, "Anyway, it's a lot to think about. I'm sure I can-- keep busy, or whatever, until Z'riah gets back."

"Are they? I've never had much trouble," Lilah replies simply, tipping her chin at being a 'weyrwoman' and 'poised'. (Sometimes. That illusion may be shattered when she continues.) She introduces herself, clarifying, "Lilah, rider of gold Eliyaveith," and all of the rumors that go along with. "Happy turnday, ...." That pause is paired with the curve of brows upwards, waiting expectantly. "What all have you tried your hand at, so far?"

"They are," Lya will assure Lilah of bronzeriders with all the great knowledge and wisdom of the young. "Lya," the blonde will fill in. "Just Lya," no fancy title, obviously. "Let's see, my stitches aren't straight enough to be a seamstress, the laundry is gross, and infirmary aide--" She makes the face to express that's even worse. "And I got kicked out of the Records Room." She sighs. "It wasn't my fault, at all," she adds this quieter, though a bit too defensively to ring wholly true. "Well met, Weyrwoman Lilah," she'll remember to say at last. "High Reaches' duties." The words sound just like the harper taught them to her - recited without a sense of meaning behind them.

Lilah is just as easy in her agreement about bronzeriders as she was about male greenriders, even offering the hint of a smile as she nods. She will remember. "Well, Lya, I would offer to allow you to try your hand at my job, but it is more of a lottery than anything someone picks." There is the tell-tale sign of distraction to the weight of dark eyes, Eliyaveith getting her say on the conversation taking place between them, but the junior weyrwoman recovers smoothly as she questions with interest, "What do you still intend to try? What do you like doing in your spare time?"

Lycinea's eyes go large at the first words, "Uhm. Thanks, but I'd really rather not. Even if it weren't a lottery thing. Do you have any idea how visible weyrwomen are?" She looks at her as if Lilah might not be aware of it, but then there's a flash of a smile. She's teasing. "You know, you could join me, if you like." She offers, which is probably to mean that Lilah's earned non-stranger status now. "I have to do some shifts with the nannies, with the stores assistants, and the hairdressers. There might be more if none of those work. I can't imagine liking working with the masons, but, if I don't find something... I'm going to keep trying so long as Headwoman Giorda lets me, though I'm really lucky she didn't stop me after the whole record keeping debacle." She makes a face.

A laugh actually slips past Lilah's lips at Lycinea's question, though she only dismisses it as soon as she recovers with an off-handed, "You get very well versed in ignoring it. I think I might be too well-versed, given how I forget which arguments are in public and which aren't--." But, she doesn't seem so concerned with that as she rolls a shoulder upwards in a shrug. Yet, her gaze trails thoughtfully over the young woman again, studying. "When is your next restday? I may know exactly what would be a better line of-- work for a young woman such as yourself." For as cryptic as her words sound, surely a weyrwoman isn't inviting Lycinea to be a prostitute or something. "You were kicked out," is recalled from before, a hint of her brows curving up in a gesture to go on.

Well, prostitutes probably don't have to flirt often, so if it didn't involve sex either, Lya might be fine with that. "Yeah?" Skeptical brows lift at the goldrider, perhaps in answer to both her earned immunity to the effects of visibility and to the offer. "I should have one next seven. If I don't get extra duty for anything else. I really am trying," she adds. "But when someone who's supposed to be teaching you something calls you an insolent cur for no reason at all and acts like she's the Lady of the records room..." What's a girl to do? begs the expression from the younger girl.

"Don't. Or if you do, tell them that you are expected by a weyrwoman and don't bother to clarify," is what Lilah says in answer for that extra duty. "I will come get you, so as soon as you see Eliyaveith--." She doesn't exactly say how to identify her dragon or anything of that nature before she is moving on. "You have every right to stand up for yourself. At least, if you take advice from me. Given what I just said about public fights, well... I have had my fair share." And she even offers a slight, momentary smile to Lycinea on that note.

Lilah's suggestion has Lya's smile blossoming again. "Okay, it should be..." she thinks and then clarifies which day of the seven her rest is scheduled for. "I think you're much better off standing up for yourself, in any case, no matter who's looking. It's not like anyone else is bound to do it for you. And even if some bronzerider comes along to be chivalrous or something, he'll only mess it up." She rolls her eyes. Bronzeriders, AmIRight?

At the subject of bronzeriders again, Lilah's brows curve upwards in a question, amusement warming dark eyes. Yet, when she speaks, she opines, "I would trust that your Weyrleader can handle the chivalrous gestures without messing them up, at least. If he ever attempts to." There is a warm affection underlaying her words, something that makes her flush as she drinks. Poise of weyrwomen, amirite. "But no, no one should rely on someone else for rescue. It is better to rescue yourself."

There's an approving nod for Lilah's last words before the blonde opens her mouth. "If you say so. I've never met him, really." Lycinea answers of her Weyrleader. "But I guess Weyrleaders are supposed to be better than the rest, even if some of them walk all over people's toes. Did you hear about that F'rain guy?" That F'rain guy who's Weyrleader at Igen. "I didn't hear the specifics, but the Igen riders who came here have been all cheesed off about it." The lists he produced just that day.

"He is young, but I thought given Weyrwoman Nimae's control over Igen, he has not been given much rope to walk on anyone's toes--." Clearly, the goldrider hasn't heard the news yet, having just shown up to the party in more ways than one. Lilah's attention, and silence, is enough to suggest that she's waiting to hear more. Whether she will go so far as to comment on it to a young woman who she just met in a public gather, well...

Never fear, Lilah, Lya's been sitting alone a while (which makes for excellent eavesdropping), and she has the goldrider covered. "Oh, he put up this thing in the living caverns at Igen that says only bronzeriders can be wingleaders. And then something about the composition of the wings. I don't really follow that bit, it seems to only make sense to have a good distribution of dragons of different sizes in the wings, but they're not happy," she makes gesture to a group a couple tables over that bear Igen knots, all well into their cups even at this early point.

"Did he," isn't really a question, the way Lilah drawls it as her gaze slides to observe the group of riders that Lya's indicated. "It seems that it might be time for me to make my rounds. There is more news than I thought there would be." Dark eyes do return to Lycinea first, though, and she consider the young woman for a moment before offering, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Lya. I will see you soon. You won't be able to miss Eliyaveith."

"Okay," Lya might look a little disappointed until her eyes flicking toward the entry sees her brightening at the sight of a good looking greenrider in his dress leathers reentering. So then it's just a matter of saying, "There's my friend anyway. Thanks. For-- ... yeah," because she's not sure what she's thanking the redhead for exactly, but she flashes a smile anyway before she's sliding out of her seat and heading to meet the 'Reaches rider.