Logs:Bullshit
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| RL Date: 27 January, 2013 |
| Who: Suireh |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Suireh reflects on the goings on at High Reaches Weyr and considers her own future. |
| Where: Harper Hall Library |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: R'hin/Mentions, Brieli/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, Satiet/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions, H'kon/Mentions |
| It was harder, Suireh realized, to avoid news while living at Harper Hall. Especially in the wake of your infamous father's visit. The marks he had passed on to her rested in a small satchel about her waist and hung heavy. They were, ostensibly, for the next winter gather up Fort Hold's way. If she had been at High Reaches, she could duck her head down, hole up in her room and pretend the outside world, with its drama-filled news events, didn't exist. But the Hall thrived on such events. It had burst into a bustle of activity when the Reachian Weyrwoman had been murdered, became quite intent when the murderer was found, and then became a quiet, thinly veiled source of disgruntlement when justice was taken into the would-be culprit's hands instead of through the proper legal channels. It was, the weyrbred girl reflected to herself, a strange grey area of autonomy. Does Weyr autonomy extend to such matters of criminal activity? Since Iolene's death, much of the work her journeyman advisor had assigned was less vocally directed and more about history. He had noted, with no little disdain for his charge's lineage, that being the daughter of such an auspicious woman and prolific man, had given her no skill for the subtlety of politics and it was her true lacking as a harper. It had stung and she could try to deny it, but her swollen eyes and strippd cot the next day had said as much about what the apprentice had been up to the night before and had ignited a flurry of ice lady jokes. That stung less, and each whisper behind her back earned the offender a look she'd long perfected at the Reaches. Besides, not every harper had to know anything about everything. She was at the Hall to become a celebrated singer, nothing more. She wanted nothing to do with the politics her parents seemed to revel in; not now. Not since two golds in succession had sought out other companions; two young golds who now vied for the Weyrwomanship of High Reaches. "Bullshit," she said outloud, allowing her skilled tongue to savor the invective. "Bull-fucking-shit." It felt good in the quiet of the harper library to break the white noise silence of apprentices studying. She ignored the dirty looks cast her way. Bullshit they were sharing and copacetic with each other. Bullshit High Reaches Weyr wasn't going to fall on its ass with two Weyrwomen and two brownriding wannabe Weyrleaders. Her eyes fell to the sheet of papers in front of her: the opinion piece she was writing for Malrek from the point of view of one of those exiles, and then the other sheet, her petition for promotion with its specialties and any other requests. She shifted, the pouch of marks jangling with her movement. A large inkblot at the bottom left corner stained the petition, where her pen had rested far too long as she considered her options. She'd have to get a replacement to copy it all over in to. It wouldn't be very harperly to be so messy.
CommentsComments on "Logs:Bullshit"R'hin (R'hin) left a comment on Mon, 28 Jan 2013 05:35:48 GMT.
Azaylia (Dragonshy) left a comment on Mon, 28 Jan 2013 10:53:24 GMT.
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Comments
Comments on "Logs:Bullshit"R'hin (R'hin) left a comment on Mon, 28 Jan 2013 05:35:48 GMT.
"Bull-fucking-shit."
Azaylia (Dragonshy) left a comment on Mon, 28 Jan 2013 10:53:24 GMT.
._. She's an intense little teen, ain't she? Still, it was great to have a peek at her thoughts!
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