Difference between revisions of "Logs:In Case of Plague..."

>---< Records Room, Fort Weyr >----------------------------------------------<

  Dual entrances provide access to the Weyr's Records Room: the great doors 
  that open out onto a short tunnel to the Bowl and a twisting set of stairs
  that descends from the Weyrleaders' Complex. Within the room itself rows  
  of stone shelving are carved out of the walls and supplemented by         
  freestanding shelving of dark, polished wood arranged in neat, well-lit   
  aisles. Bright tapestries depicting scenes from around the Fort region    
  decorate the walls, each with a glow basket in a sconce immediately above 
  to provide light by which to see the details and to leaven the gloom that 
  would otherwise permeate the chamber. Underfoot, a richly woven carpet in 
  shades of pale cream to rich klah brown evoke in abstract, the colors of  
  the Weyr, while a subtle patterning at its center replicates the          
  fortification that is Fort's hallmark symbol. Even without seeing the     
  contents of those shelves, one would know the purpose of the room, given  
  the perpetual aroma of hides, scrolls, paper, books and ink.              
                                                                            
  A few small alcoves have been carved out of the stone and filled with     
  desks and chairs, providing relatively quiet places for those using the   
  records room to work without being disturbed. Immediately before the doors
  that lead out to the Bowl, several long tables are arranged to provide    
  larger, communal workspaces. Scribes can find writing implements, ink,    
  paper, and other tools of the trade in a couple of discreetly located     
  cabinets behind the duty desk. This cabinet and the outer doors are       
  typically kept locked when no recordskeeper is on duty.                   

 -----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
  Dahlia       F  18  5'9"  sturdy, dk. brown hair, hazel eyes            0s 
  Hattie       F  40  5'6"  slim, dark brown hair, brown eyes             6s

Elaruth has not yet budged from her chosen perch atop the highest point along the rim of the bowl, though exactly who or what she's watching for isn't anything that she's giving away. As the afternoon passes further and further from midday and towards evening, she reaches out, the mists of her mind seeking Taeliyth with quiet, if pressing, insistence. « Your rider's presence is requested in the records, » she informs her, before she retreats back to her watchful stillness. As she's been known to do, the Weyrwoman has excused the recordskeepers for the time being and claimed the space as her own; as a meeting room, for the moment. Across the main table, there are neatly organised stacks of hides, though Hattie herself is not immediately visible. Presumably, she's down one of the aisles.

Taeliyth's watching post today is lower but not so low as the ground. She's borrowed someone's ledge, overlooking the bowl and lake as a solid vantage point. Her head lifts away from observation of a pair of brownriders going over their straps to look at her granddam. « She comes, » is returned a moment later with the feel of deep shadows in dark wood. No one is without work these days, Dahlia perhaps one of the least of all, so it takes a short time for her to extricate herself from whatever undertaking she was engaged in elsewhere in the Weyr and arrive in the records room. "Weyrwoman," is her polite greeting as she comes to the table. She's simple, functional work attire and her head bears a kerchief to guard against hair in her eyes or dust in her hair. She doesn't ask Hattie what this is about or what she can do, but rather simply gives over her full attention for whatever the Weyrwoman might ask of her.

When Hattie appears, she's lugging one of the older volumes of records with her, which she sets down near the edge of the table on the side that she's adopted as her own, the rows of hides both sides near identical. "These," she gestures to the stacks opposite, "are your copies. Everything that we have in stores that is either infirmary specific or can be used some way or another in remedies that might be useful." She pulls out a chair and seats herself, smoothing her skirts out over her knees. "I'd understand more of it if it were for dragons, but we'll have to take the Healers' word for it in some cases. I think, if we end up in the same situation as Boll, managing the infirmary supplies could become as big an issue as handling the rest of it."

"Yes, ma'am," acknowledges the copies, reaching for those on her side as she takes a seat, since it seems this is not a come-and-go-do sort of summoning. Dahlia's expression tightens as she simply lets her hand lay on the top most of one of the stacks. "Do you think we will?"

"...I don't know," Hattie admits around a faint grimace. "But I think that if it were just a matter of willpower and hoping things will get better, Lady Jenilynn would have managed to keep much of her Hold safe from whatever it is. It seems it may be safer to assume and prepare than try and pretend that all will be well." She takes a deep breath and hold it for a moment. "We have the added difficulty that, for every rider that might get ill, we have a distressed dragon potentially in a not so good state themselves, and no rider to look after them," is more sighed out than spoken. "That aside... should things turn nasty, I'd like you to assist the Healers by keeping a close eye on supplies and putting in requests and orders from wherever will accept them, if necessary. I don't mean that I want you in the infirmary itself, but chances are that they'll be more needed to heal and we'll be needed to do what we do."

Dahlia's nod in answer to the first is slow. Her expression is serious, hazel eyes settled on Hattie's face, taking in the nuances of it. She listens throughout with small nods. "I can do that." Supply chain is something Dee at least has experience with, courtesy of her training. "If Elaruth and a few other dragons would be willing," the teen says after a drawn breath, "Taeliyth would like her guidance in practicing for helping to control distressed dragons." That's first, next: "I could put together a list of weyrbred residents that know enough about dragons to help care for those that need it, if any do." Certainly, from her briefly distressed look, she hopes none do, but she must see the wisdom in preparation. "Do you--" She pauses, obviously second-guessing before deciding to press on, "-think it would be wise to prepare space for additional ill? Maybe the weyrling and candidate barracks since we don't have any and well, shouldn't, for a time yet?" That last gives her a little pause, but only a little. "It might help to have more spaces for healers to get to riders with distressed dragons without having to make weyr calls."

Hattie gives a shallow bob her of her head. "You'll have to consider that Elaruth isn't apt to call it control, for all that may be what it is," she warns, low-voiced. "And her-- Well, you'll see. Hopefully, Taeliyth exerting her will in that way won't have the same effect that it does on her. A list of potential aides would be useful, yes. I can assist the dragonhealers if necessary, but my training only goes so far." Her assent to thoughts about the barracks comes in the form of a twitch of her lips. "It couldn't hurt," the Weyrwoman agrees. "If we end up with even half of what's happening at Boll, we're going to need more space to keep the ill away from the healthy, if nothing else. If the barracks, unless we risk the Weyrleader and his children getting ill, the Weyrlingmaster's office will need to be and remain locked for the foreseeable future."

Dahlia nods her head, "Taeliyth doesn't have experience, and that may be-- well, critical, if things go poorly." 'Poorly', such a poor word to describe what could happen. "With all due respect, ma'am, you're also the one tracking the big picture, so you certainly you're able to help, but your focus-- if something happens, you'll be more important in your role as Weyrwoman than dragonhealer." She says the words carefully; she's being honest even if it might not be what Hattie might like to hear. "I can speak with Ebeny if you'd like." She offers, a touch awkwardly. "And Erinta. Get things moving to make sure there's someone to head the temporary places and find out what supplies they'll need on hand."

"If you learn nothing else of using a queen's will, it should be that it's a matter of persuasion first, and command only if necessary," Hattie states without a shred of doubt, though she seems prepared to leave it at that, for now. "And I only intend to be in the dragon infirmary as a last resort, whether it be that Elaruth cannot cope with something or... she is the patient. I am the patient." She faces that prospect remarkably evenly of both tone and expression, like she could stare it down and into submission if she tried. "If you wish to speak with the Weyrlingmaster... I don't think my inevitable missteps, given E'dre, will do the situation much good. Leave Erinta to me, for the moment. I think she's going to need... support."

Dahlia's reaction isn't even. She pales, visibly, at the idea of the Weyrwoman falling ill. She takes a deep breath before making any kind of reply. "If there is widespread illness here, command may be necessary. Taeliyth doesn't want to be unprepared should it come to that." The young woman thumbs through the stacks, observing where the separators indicate different items. "I'll speak with her." She frowns slightly, "Is there news from Ruatha?" is asked, probably in deference to the headwoman's origins.

"Well then... command via a route with the least pain," Hattie supposes, lifting one weary hand to catch in her hair, letting it stay there and pull at her roots for a while. "But no, nothing from Ruatha yet, though it may only be a matter of time. Whatever the case, even with the potential distress of anything happening there, I don't believe that she's handled anything quite like this before. If it's all for nothing, then all's the better, but she's likely going to need to feel as if she's doing things right, and that she has the support she needs if she has concerns." She taps one of the hides nearest her with her free hand. "From here on out, you get a copy of any documentation I write or receive. It'll drive the scribes to distraction, but... should anything happen, you'll know everything I do about the situation."

"Have any of us handled anything quite like this before?" Dee has to ask, "If it becomes something?" She begins to gather the stacks. "Yes, ma'am," answers the copies going forward. "Erinta might have more experience with moving goods from place to place than we do, with her background," is added as a final thought, "Holds do a lot more redistributing than we do." But then the young woman has the hides in her arms, "Will that be all for now, ma'am?"

"Moving goods, yes... Handling a Weyr full of frightened people?" Hattie holds her breath again, yet manages to exhale without making her sigh as audible as it might be. "...Unfortunately, some of us have handled something quite like this." She doesn't give any indication that she has any intention of going anywhere for a while, though she lets the hand in her hair flop back to her side. "That's all, for now," she confirms. "Make sure you're at dinner," she requests. "The Weyrleader and I have some things to say. And ask Taeliyth to keep an open mind going forward - literally. I suppose I should be glad that that's usually Elaruth's default state." Only then does she add, "Thank you, Dahlia."

"Of course, ma'am," seems to answer it all for Dahlia simply nods her head. "I'll get to work. Have Elaruth let Taeliyth know if you need me again before dinner." She is, rather literally, at the Weyrwoman's beck and call. With hides in arm, she departs.