Difference between revisions of "Logs:In Which Aishani Makes Hattie Cry (or Not)"

Winter at High Reaches means snowfall and more snowfall, and more snowfall. Today is no exception, but there's still no shortage of people to make the trek from the caverns to the galleries to come and look at the eggs -- there's some teenage seamstresses, a few older women clearly there for the warmth, and Aishani, in the nice seats down in front where she can be close to Iesaryth. While her mate may be more alert, the queen is somewhat less so, generally bored by egg duty and warmed by the sands. Why not doze? Her rider, by contrast, does not, making idle notes in a small book, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle.

The frequency with which Elaruth and her rider visit High Reaches is... so non-existent as to not be considered 'frequency' at all. When Fort's senior queen appears high in the Reachian skies, it's just as well that she's got all that airspace between herself and the Weyr, for she needs that time to consider where best to land, after, of course, she's quietly informed the Weyr's queens of her presence. Once she's deposited her rider between one snow dune and the next, she takes flight straight away, selecting a perch on the southern rim of the bowl, not so different from her favoured spot at home. Only then does she reach to touch her mind to Iesaryth's again; just a feather-light brush that seeks not to draw her from her doze. It takes Hattie a few moments to work through how best to balance on snow, but then she flicks out behind her the tail of her long leather coat, and heads with single-minded focus in the direction of the hatching cavern, slipping inside to eye the galleries with that same determined focus.

It doesn't take very much to wake Iesaryth out of her doze, the sort that is of summer days and ocean's rhythm, lazy and not at all necessary. Though when she can reach out and notes where Elaruth's landed, she's pleased; that's a spot she enjoys as well, with its sweeping view of the bowl, if snowy now. « We like it there. » It's enough to have Aishani looking for Hattie when the Weyrwoman enters, and if the goldrider doesn't look surprised, surely everyone else does enough to make up for her lack. Tucking away notebook and pencil, she lifts a hand to hail the other woman, but doesn't call across the way to draw any /further/ attention.

« It is good to find... similarities, » Elaruth shares with Iesaryth, her voice warm, yet as quiet as ever. It's not so much of a stretch to sense her full meaning, of both queens /and/ Weyrs. Those surprised looks - and any staring that goes on - are met with a steady, calm study of those who offer them, Hattie's attention lingering long enough on those who catch her attention to be a little discomforting, perhaps. Still, she's not here to stare, and Aishani's company is most certainly preferred over continuing to draw the attention of strangers, so she journeys onwards through the galleries, weaving her way past people when necessary (and without so much as a 'sorry'), to seek out where her fellow goldrider sits. "Congratulations," she greets, once she's close enough to without lifting her voice. "It's a good number."

« It is. » Iesaryth enjoys that as well, though there are benefits to Weyrs with less snow, she will admit. At the same time, it makes the little people easier to track across the white expanse, as slow and brightly coloured as they tend to be. Any gossips are not likely to hold up under Hattie's regard, even the more formidable of the aunties, so they go back to their talking, though much more quietly. If it were less snowy, certainly news might travel faster. Perhaps nudged by her queen's politesse, Aishani actually rises for a moment to greet Hattie instead of lazing there, though any other formalities are left alone. Nodding to the set next to her with a faint smile, "Thank you. I'll pass it on. I think so, though I believe that the Weyrlingmasters might like them to space it out a bit, or go smaller if they're going to be so close." As she takes a seat, wry, "You didn't get buried."

"I think our Weyrlingmasters might get a bit of a shock if they found themselves working during a Pass," Hattie replies, a quick grin lending a sharp curve to her lips as she unbuttons her heavy coat and folds it neatly over one arm as she sits down, the garment spilling over her knees and to the floor like a long shadow. "No," for not being buried, "I hope that's an achievement," she says, smile taking on a similar wry edge. "And I hope N'rov is doing his fair share of egg-watching. I wonder if it would be kind to wind him up into believing I'm here to reprimand him for something that has just come to light at Fort."

"To be fair, we all might be, those of us that don't remember much of it, if any. But maybe they do have too much time on their hands." Something about that particular group of riders has Aishani irritated, but that's left off with a little shake of her head, a quick flash of a smile. "People have been lost out there in a blizzard, so it's never something to be taken lightly. People seem to find it odd that she's still so fond of Monaco-" A nod to the sleeping gold. "But wouldn't you be?" As for N'rov, "He is, and he is apparently doing his best to win over old ladies. Or something like that. Though /is/ there anything that's come to light?" Because one never knows.

"It /did/ take Elaruth a little bit to figure out where best to land without creating her own version of a snowy avalanche," Hattie has to confess, aiming a quick glance towards the outside world in subconscious quest of her lifemate. "So, I probably shouldn't take any bets on making it back to her without blundering about a bit." Low enough to be admitted to Aishani and not to anyone seeking to eavesdrop. Her gaze swings back to the Sands; to Iesaryth and her clutch. "Being of sunshine and her birthplace, I think she's every right to be as fond of Monaco as she wishes," she declares, a sly edge beginning to creep into her expression as thoughts turn to N'rov. With a sigh, she shares, "No." Shame. "He's safe. For now."

Quietly, conspiratorially, "Just have her land closer to here than not. It's bound to be a little bit stomped down." Aishani hopes anyway, by her tone. Following Hattie's gaze out to the gold, she quirks a bit of a smile, allowing, "I don't mind it, and they still think of her as theirs. I did see Oriane before Iesaryth clutched." A pause, to ensure no one /is/ eavesdropping before, "She said not to expect much, but that they'd attend." And though the Weyrwoman's sigh does have her faintly relieved, she offers, "I could say there was something. Or that you didn't ask at all." That might be worse.

"As long as it won't upset...?" Hattie gives a shallow nod towards Iesaryth. "Closer proximity, I mean. Elaruth can be fussy about that when she's on the Sands." She absently smoothes down her coat, drawing it to drape more over one knee than the other to keep it from falling in crumpled folds at her feet, an air of casual interest affected for anyone else to see, like the two might simply be chatting about the weather or depth of sand. "Am I right in suspecting that their attendance might be more about being left out or suspicious, in that case?" she utters dryly. As for N'rov: "You could say I don't recall a bronzerider named N'rov, I suppose. I'm sure his wingmates will visit and congratulate enough to make up for it."

"Oh, no. Hraedhyth is on guard sometimes, but she mostly doesn't seem to get too upset unless she sees a threat." Foreign or not, it's difficult for Aishani, at least, to see the senior queen so bothered by Elaruth. "Though with Tsanth gone South, a bit of warning might be nice." That thought briefly draws fine brows together, but she moves on to tell Hattie, likewise at ease, but amused, "It think it's less of those and more that Oriane likes to observe. She likes to know things, I think. And she finds me interesting, which I suppose is better than not, should they tire of me here someday." Grinning, "I'll say just that. And they've been by already. Wings are awfully /social/." In her weyr.

Mention of Tsanth draws Hattie's lips to one side for a moment, that brief silence spent considering whether or not to ask, "...Should I continue to believe rumours of an accident involving your former Weyrleader, or...?" Something more deliberate. "Not that I suppose it's any of my business, but... it's not so great a leap from targeting weyrwomen to Weyrleaders." Of Oriane, she gives a quirk of her brows and remarks, dryly, "It's better to be considered interesting than not. Just do try not to branch out into Onyka's variety of interesting, won't you?" That grin must be infectious, as Hattie can't help but do the same as she says, "I swear I've seen Hematite get misty-eyed about their devotion to each other."

With her own purse of lips, "It seems to have been an accident, and I'd like not to be paranoid. One never knows. There's quite a bit going on around here... but all anyone /wanted/ was a 'proper' Weyrleader, so it seems counter to logic." Even if Aishani is more likely to trust paranoia than logic. "It would be nice, though, if there was not cause to worry or be on guard. And I will do my best." She even lays a hand across her heart, sober only briefly. Then, rolling her eyes Hattie's way, "It's not unheard of, but really. I think I'm less high-maintenance."

"Depends on what someone's interpretation of 'proper' is, considering-" Hattie shakes her head and stops that thought right there before the rest of it can escape. "I don't envy Azaylia, to have two flights in a row that must seek to turn an appointed Weyrleader into a 'true' one." The way she puts it, the quotation marks are audible. "...I'm not sure I remember a time when there wasn't anything to worry about," she murmurs, glancing down at her knees. "Still, too... comfortable can be just as troubling." If one is prone to over thinking things. "Oh," she remembers, eyes brightening, "I spoke to our Weyrsecond the other day. There was talk of Hematite and cuddling. You might wish to ask your bronzerider about that." Deadpan.

There's a smirk. Maybe Aishani knows where Hattie was going with that. "It is unfortunate," she agrees soberly. "Perhaps this Weyr has as hard a time hanging on to Weyrleaders as Weyrwomen." And if there's part of her that might want to say, 'and it serves them right', she might be forgiven. Maybe. "And I suppose you're right at that; complacency is its own issue. I might have liked the Holds sorted first, though." Oh well. Grimacing, she looks at Hattie, faintly aghast. "I don't know if I want to."

"Unfortunate," Hattie will readily agree, echoing that nice, non-committal word. She echoes Aishani again when she snorts, "Holds," and shakes her head, giving a little roll of her eyes. "It feels rather like a spate of madness has struck them all, recently. Of course, not all of it is entirely of own making or choice, but /still/. It's enough to make me wonder what life will be like by the next Pass, if things continue as they are." Not great, if the disparaging curl of her lips is an indication of her thoughts. But for cuddling? "I think it's harmless, but I swear they're more emotional than we are."

"I think they ought to be handled a certain way, but... people disagreed, and here we are." It's not as if Aishani can claim not doing what she says has /directly/ resulted in the current situation, but if you gloss over events, it's close. "Oriane said something about their Hold relations being amiable, and it's difficult to /suggest/ but one wonders for how long in an Interval. How long until they look North and get ideas. I don't like to worry about the next Pass, but..." It's rather the point. With a smirk for the other goldrider, "Sometimes, I do wonder. Not that..." She gestures between them and leaves it there. Neither woman is terribly 'emotional'.

"I think... it's very easy for Oriane to claim that her Weyr is on good terms with its Holds. It isn't as if we'll question it - or them - to see if she's making what she wants from the truth, until..." Hattie inclines her head towards Aishani to acknowledge all she says about the Interval and /ideas/. "But I do hope, for her and all our sakes, that /some/ relations between Holds and Weyrs are still as they once were." She sighs and squares her shoulders, lifting her gaze back to the Sands again. A gentle smile sent out to Iesaryth and her eggs becomes sly as dark eyes dart back to her rider. "Maybe I'll run home, weeping inconsolably, and tell N'muir you were terribly mean to me," she drawls. And ovines might start knitting their own wool. "But, in all seriousness, I should get home."

"Mmmm. There is that as well. It's not as if we all have time to wander around the continents, asking Holders if they're happy with their Weyr." Aishani smirks a touch for the very idea. "Though I do hope that as well. It would be nice to see things continue along, rather than descend into chaos at the slightest provocation." She shakes her head slowly, then has to grin for Hattie's sly glance, her suggestion. "Oh do. Azaylia too. I think he might buy one, perhaps not the other." Amused, "To the better weather, no doubt. I hope it's a safe trip and things are relatively quiet. And the children are well."

"I'll say you stole my ribbons and made fun of my clothes too," Hattie promises as she rises and slips her coat back on, leaving it unbuttoned for the moment. Her, "Thank you," is sincere, as is, "and if there's anything you need..." They need only ask. "I hope all remains well with Iesaryth and her eggs. And Vhaeryth." Because, even if she is pretending to have forgotten N'rov, that doesn't quite extend to his bronze. "Keep safe." And if she has to stare anyone down on her way back out, that's exactly what she'll do, sweeping out in much the same manner that she navigated her way through the galleries upon her arrival.

"Don't forget pulled your hair!" Aishani calls after, if only to confuse the starers, while she offers a wave. Iesaryth has a waft of salty breezes for Elaruth too as the pair head back to Fort.