Difference between revisions of "Logs:What Needs To Be Done"

It's still really early in the morning, though not as early as it was. The sun's well up by now and the headwoman comes back down from the Weyrleader's ledges, sweater tucked close to her body, but looking composed after that little cry with the Weyrleader. Her steps take her onward to the junior's ledges though, a path traced from one weyr to another, to find Tiriana. Just outside she waits for Iovniath to notice her and pass along word. "Good morning," is offered politely too.

For such a pretty girl, Tiriana doesn't cry pretty at all. Her face is streaky, eyes swollen and red as she finally starts moving around the weyr again in listless fashion. Iovniath, though ashen herself, is watching her rider closely, and she flicks only a brief glance at Milani, and enough of a low croon to be polite in recognizing her. Tiriana is slower in coming to meet the headwoman, scrubbing at her face one more time, for all the good that does, before she finally appears at Iovniath's shoulder, one hand reached out to brace on the gold. "What do you want?" she asks, more tired now than confrontational.

Calmly, Milani meets Tiriana's gaze briefly then makes a point of not looking at how much crying Tiriana's been doing. "I came to see if you're all right," she says next and smiles very faintly. "It's going to be a really long day and we're going to need to get ready for it. I've got some things ready in the caverns, but I'll need your orders for handling the rest, ma'am."

"I'm fine," and that is brusque, Tiriana not looking at Milani, either. Vaguely, without really seeming to listen, either, she nods to the younger girl's suggestions; but the last one pulls her up short. Blinking, she glances up at Milani again, and says, lost, "Already?"

There's sympathy on Milani's face briefly, but time is a-ticking. "Yes ma'am," she says quietly. "The whole Weyr's going to be fit to be tied for a few days. Everyone will be mourning in different ways, but things still need to be seen to. I can stave off some of the usual work, but it'll still need to be seen to eventually. In the meantime we --" she pauses, swallows a sudden lump in her throat, "--need to figure out what sort of tribute we'd like to pay to the Weyrwoman. And I will need to know if you would like me to carry on with things in the same ways in the lower caverns, or if there's any immediate changes you would like to have made." She takes a breath, pauses and then goes on. "The staff might take changes better a little later on." It's a mild suggestion and Milani's gaze slants sidelong over to the goldrider.

The enormity of it--things have to go on; there's no rest for them even now--only seems to sink in then, and Tiriana slides down to a seat on the edge of Iovniath's couch. "Oh. Oh, yeah--just... do your thing. Keep it going for a while, and all. And then we'll..." Beat. "Changes--you're going to quit, aren't you?" And she sounds maybe even a little worried about that possibility, aiming a frown up at Milani.

That slide sees Milani drawing a breath and she nods. "Mind if I sit too?" she asks, doesn't do it until granted permission. "All right then, sounds like a plan, we'll keep on as we are until ... things have settled down a little," the headwoman says decisively. That question though draws a shake of Milani's head. "Hell no. Whyever would I do that?" She shoots Tiriana a boggled look. "I just talked to N'thei ... he's going to need taking care of. A little. Not too much and not so it looks like it, you know? So someone has to take care of shit around here." There's a little breath and Milani looks up at the sky. "Remember turnover?" she asks suddenly, foot scuffing along the rocky surface of the ledge. "And inventorying all those stupid empty weyrs that we already knew about? She knew. So you know. It'll be like that all over again. Only not stupid empty weyrs. The real thing."

"Because you hate me?" Tiriana says, her turn to look confused. "Why would you /stay?" She shakes her head, then nods over toward the couch. "Fine, sure. You want something? A drink. Probably have something. Maybe. I don't know, I just got home. --I have to fire him." On the heels of pleasantries such as they are, that admission spills out, and Tiriana, briefly distracted with logistics, looks miserable again.

Rolling her eyes, Milani just shakes her head and looks askance at Tiriana. "And that means I should quit? Leave my home? You've got to be kidding me," the headwoman replies. "I worked for over five turns to get this knot, I'm not going to give it up just because we've --" she pauses and the next is delivered more softly: "-- lost our Weyrwoman." She fixes Tiriana with a long, assessing look. "Yeah. If you've got whiskey, we should both have a shot. It's probably going to take a few to get through this fucking day," Milani says with a snort. She's sat now, but reaches over towards Tiriana's arm, touch meant to be light. "Don't do it right away? I think he's firing himself. He's packing," Millie says quietly. "Just um ... let him be for the rest of today. Just today. But I guess have Iovniath pass along stuff to the riders. Something has to be said soon to kind of ... keep everyone pulled together."

"He can't quit. I have to /fire/ him," Tiriana says, as though the difference is very important. "I can't fire you, I can't fire those, those--" she struggles for a word suitably awful, but her vocabulary fails "--those /healers/. And I have to fire him." She pulls away from Milani to head further inside, rummaging around noisily before she returns with a half-full bottle, no glasses. She sinks back down on the stone couch then, passing the drink over toward Milani first. "Iovniath, right. She'll come up with something; she's good like that," she says. Then, quiet, "I hate her."

Waiting Tiriana out, Milani tilts her head to the side a little. Her return sees the headwoman pulling the bottle's stopper with her teeth and then taking a healthy swig of its contents. She doesn't cough, but her eyes do cross. Then she passes the bottle back to Tiriana. "Then fire him, but like, fire him tomorrow. He's wrecked today." Candid. "Yeah." About Iovniath and Milani looks over at the goldrider again. "There were days when I did too. Right now though, I think I'm still kind of in shock. That's what this is for," the bottle given a little shake. "I'll cry more later." Because apparently she already did, though it doesn't look like it. "All right then. Iovniath's got the riders. I'll go instruct the rest of the staff, give some people the day off if they need it. Wingleaders you got covered? Sweeps don't get canceled," she points out. "Think about who should or shouldn't go though. The people who can handle it." She blows out a long puff of breath and nods. "And tomorrow, we'll need to have the usual staff meeting." She waits a moment or two, clears her throat. "Memorial in three days?" Her voice is tight even so.

"And he's going to be better tomorrow? We're not going to be better tomorrow," Tiriana says. She takes a long swig from the bottle, too, toying with its neck afterward. "See if Oranyuth 'n' F'rint can take care of it. Not like they don't, anyway. I--right. We have to do /some/thing. We can't just... get drunk in our weyrs. That'd be fitting," she says, bitter.

"Not all better, but a day'll be good," Milani says and then quietly: "Please, Tiriana? Wait until tomorrow for N'thei?" She takes another breath, nods about F'rint. "Yeah, exactly. And then -- something." She fidgets a little in place. "Bonfire?" she suggests after a moment.

"Six hours in and everybody's already telling what I can't do," Tiriana says. But she sighs, and takes another drink. "Something," she agrees. "A bonfire. That sounds fine. We'll go... set things on fire and feel better. We'll do that."

"I'm not sayin you can't," Milani counters with a shake of her head. "I'm asking," the headwoman states the difference and looks over at Tiriana steadily enough. "Yeah. Burning things up. It's a release," Milani says and puffs her cheeks out again. She holds her hand out for the bottle again. "All right. One more swig and then ... have to go take care of things, make sure everyone knows, though Faranth, if they don't they sleep harder than the dead." Poor word choice.

And Tiriana just looks at Milani, flatly, before she passes the bottle back over. A deep breath, and she leans back then, against Iovniath's side. "Go on, then. Fix it and then tomorrow--." But she just shrugs in the end, one hand half-reached out to reclaim her liquor. "Tomorrow'll be whatever it is."

Milani takes the bottle and her mouth pulls to the side wryly. "Right. It'll be whatever it is. And you and me, we'll have to figure things out." She swigs long, swallows hard then passes the bottle back to Tiriana and pushes to her feet. "I'll see you later," she says and walks away a few steps, turns to look back over her shoulder, adds the title with the capital W audible, "Weyrwoman." And then she goes.

Somehow, that title doesn't seem to sit as well as you'd think it would on Tiriana: instead of gloating, she takes another long, long drink and slides deeper into the hollow of Iovniath's side. "Right. I'll see you around," she tells Milani.