Logs:Unofficially Official, Officially Unofficial
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| RL Date: 15 August, 2013 |
| Who: Aishani, Suireh |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Aishani comes to visit Suireh, which is funny, cause they aren't friends, but apparently they are! |
| Where: Harper Hall |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Ienavi/Mentions, Vesik/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, Zi'an/Mentions, R'hin/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: What would be known about this encounter is what trickles slowly out of Harper Hall: A goldrider came to visit Suireh, gossip says the goldrider who stole her dragon (maybe that's more mocking than not). They talked about Suireh's new cousins and her father, discussed what they were groomed to become and how well that's all turned out. |
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| It is a summer morning, 11:53 of day 12, month 7, turn 32 of Interval 10. Harper Hall, Fort Area(#866RJs$) Iesaryth is not an unusual sight in the skies over the Halls near Fort; she makes visits to the Halls now and again, and the gold is certainly seen at the Weyr proper often enough. Her size and manners usually have her landing outside the Hall itself, leaving her rider to walk the rest of the way in and today is no different. The difference today is who she's come to find, as shortly after the gold lands, there's a green apprentice sent to find Suireh, nervous and breathless: there's a goldrider here to see her, unaware that's hardly a big deal to the other harper. She bears a note which identifies Suireh's visitor as Aishani. There's some relief in the lack of recognition the apprentice has, one that draws a faint, reflective smile along Suireh's face, and it's not too long after the message departs Aishani that the journeyman harper makes her way down into the courtyard, her gaze dancing casual studies about the area in order to spy one of Reaches' distinctive goldriders. When finding her, her steps slow to an amble and a polite, if distant, greeting is favored to the older woman, "Fort's duties to the Reaches and her venerable queens." Ok, polite with a splash of sardonicism in that emphasis; but still, mostly polite. The apprentice just seems to recognize Suireh in her capacity at the Hall, which is to say 'the scary one with the Masterharper's ear', so she bails out of there as soon as there's a smile, taking that for a job well done. On arriving in the courtyard, Aishani is waiting with no sense of impatience about her, wine-dark jacket folded over one arm. Why should she be impatient when there's Harper gossip to overhear in the meantime? But as Suireh approaches, she has a brief smile for the younger woman, her own greeting: "High Reaches' duties to Harper Hall. Though this is not an entirely official visit." Not entirely, but. With her own survey of the courtyard, "Should we walk? Or is there somewhere quieter to talk?" "Kierna should have led you to the lounge, or somewhere indoors at the very least. It's humid out here." Rebuke for the apprentice, and a subtle (and yet somehow obvious) side stepping of the officiality of this visit, color Suireh's voice. "We'll get some refreshments for you and we can catch up on old times and news from home inside," where only the walls have ears, and not the air they walk through. Apprentices here and there trying to eavesdrop sneakily and totally failing. Journeymen and Masters adopting less interest in the goings on of a visiting dignitary. Wryly, "It's actually a nice change from what we call summer, but I imagine you're more accustomed to that." Aishani glances in the direction of High Reaches, as if you might be able to see it from here, then shrugs for the apprentice's oversight. It's not her problem. But indoors and away from failing-to-be-subtle apprentices; "That sounds perfect. There's not much news, but there's always something. Flights, children, the usual." She's casual about it, as if there's no missing Holders or anything else going on. There's a grimace on the younger woman's lips that claims her entire face in the next moment at the mention of births. "I have no plans on visiting the Reaches any time soon. I can imagine my uncle and Leova are over the moon, but we've heard the news at least." The royal we presumably; as if the progeny of a bartender and greenrider was newsworthy at Harper Hall. "Have you seen them?" They're still walking, and while Aishani was given precedence through the door, Suireh quickly takes a half step ahead, guiding with a turn of her body around a corner and then up some stairs to a small library area in the master's private corridor. It has narrow windows, unshuttered at the moment, and a balcony that overlooks the Healer Hall her gardens. There's a lift of fine brows momentarily at the grimace, but Aishani doesn't look like she's much of a baby person herself, noting, "I think they're happy, yes -- Leova if only to be free of the infirmary, I'm sure. I saw them for a moment, as Iesaryth was dealing with Vrianth's anxiety." The goldrider doesn't seem to know her way around, so is happy to follow, and seems pleased with the quiet spot, going over to the balcony to look out to the gardens briefly, then down. Paranoid. "They're small. They're babies. I'm sure they'll be more interesting when you can visit." Or when Suireh can bring herself to do so. There's a pause before, in a different, more serious tone, "Do you know if you've heard from your posted Harper at Nabol recently?" The turns since Monaco, and subsequent encounters of the more casual variety, have been kind to Suireh's temperament, or at least have matured it into some semblance of being able to keep her poise in light of personal... failures of the dragonriding kind. But when she takes a seat in the armchair, and watches Aishani's back at the balcony, there's a flicker of something intangible. Scrutiny? Distrust? Unfulfilled hopes and dreams? Likely, what it is doesn't matter, as it fades by the time Aishani's brief glance is over and she's back to discussing unofficial matters. It fades into a cooler gray though nothing else in the casual repose she's adopted of one leg crossed over the other changes. "I gathered that might be your first question after pleasantries." Those gray eyes skip past the goldrider to the sky visible through that narrow window, before she ultimately answers with a single, "No. Has the Reaches?" With something of an apologetic smile, rueful, Aishani admits, "I don't like to waste anyone's time." Particularly her own. Pleasantries might not be something that come easily to the goldrider either, for all she does all right with them; she doesn't wear them quite as well as her fashionable clothes. Taking her own seat, crossing long legs, she regards Suireh for a moment, dark eyes sober. "Reaches has not. I have not, but I have had contact with someone who has. I am told he was murdered." There's no easy way to say that. Unfolding the jacket in her lap, looking through pockets, "I am also told he sent documents before... before. But I am uncertain if they reached you." The royal you. Suireh's face is impassive at the mention of murder, no shock or horror marring it's sharp beauty. Perhaps she already knew; if this being entirely new information, wouldn't there have been more involuntary reaction? "I'm not privy to everything the Master might know. He is," she allows with the most wry of lip turns, "In the position he is cause of information and mastering the use of it. We may have. But I don't know, Br- Aishani. Thank you for conveying this information through private channels, weyrwoman. I would hate to be Lunmein's wife and hear through drums. Or from a watchrider. Harper Hall would appreciate any assistance High Reaches may be able to lend in finding Lunmein's body, should he be murdered." Harpers know things, or at least, are trained to look like they know things. Aishani's not shocked at the lack of shock or horror, or surprise. Quirking her lips as she produces a sealed letter from her jacket, "I am sure few people are privy to everything the Master might know. I hope the documents reached their destination, as it may make... issues of succession easier." Leaning forward to offer the letter to Suireh, she meets the journeyman's gaze as she tells her, "This comes from Ienavi." As for Lunmein, his wife, his body, there's unusual sympathy in her expression. "I will see what I can find. I expect the remains are at Nabol, if Ienavi is correct." She seems to believe the Lady, for what that's worth. It's here the harper's unable to school her expressions completely. The mention of Nabol's lost lady puckers her brow quicker than she can flatten it out again. Wordlessly, she accepts the letter and studies the outside before tucking it into the inside flap of her summer jacket. A hand presses over it, a universal sign of keeping it safe. "You've been in touch with Lady Nabol then. We hope she's well. And safe." The latter is spoken after a skipped beat; a personal conveyance. "Unfortunately, Harper Hall cannot intervene," a brief pause leaves out one, very telling word, "In the matters of succession as it is up to the Conclave. Very rarely does the Conclave ignore a passing Lord's wishes and wills, but it has been known to happen in the past," the examples of which the harper does not elaborate on. "But the Masterharper will do what is in his power to do what is right." For? "Are you-," the harper pauses again, looking the slightest bit discomfited but then charging ahead anyway, "How are you? After- how are you?" Her moderated voice loses it's cultivation and there's an intent look in her eyes, as if sympathy, or at the very least empathy, might emerge if given reason to. Though the journeyman doesn't ask, Aishani still fills in, "I believe that will tell the Masterharper what the documents Lunmein filed meant to prove. Ienavi says that Lunmein was witness to Lord Nabol naming his child-to-be his heir, and he paid for his duty as a Harper with his life. I am-- concerned. I believe there are those within the Conclave that have taken advantage of chaos and continue to do so." Not that she'll name names, but. "If the Lord's wishes and wills can still be proven via records, it may make things simpler for the Conclave, and... less likely that undue influence may creep into Nabol. And she is well, and safer. Though very concerned for the well-being of her child, and there are wings searching for her. She'd rather not be found for the time being." By her tone, the goldrider is not entirely certain she can make that happen, but is determined. Sitting back, she's briefly bemused by Suireh's questioning, then enlightened, she flashes a grin. "I always have something to do with my time. I am... interested to see if a golden age of peace and prosperity suddenly emerges." That's dry. "But then whatever will we do for sport?" returns Suireh, just as dry, with a small smile that wipes away the empathy and replaces it with a brighter sparkle. The slight woman goes silent as an apprentice appears (though when she placed the order is uncertain, perhaps somewhere along their short walk here), with a tray of tea sandwiches and tall glasses of some sort of blended fruit ice-juice. The apprentice lingers, looking at Aishani with both appreciation and curiosity, before a sharp look from Suireh has him scooting out backwards, and then the clatter of his feet is heard as it races down the hallway. "You'd think they never got the chance to see a goldrider." Sniff. Aishani has a soft, unladylike snort for that, smirking as the apprentice enters, and ignoring the regard with an air that might make most people think she's entirely unaware of it. Once he's gone, amused, "Like creature pelts from the South. You'd think they'd all go to stare at Iesaryth. They might be, but she's sleeping, so I have no idea." An eye roll for the gold's indolence before she'll admit, before taking up the glass, "I didn't think much about it before the other day, but I was raised to lead, before." Before, they both know what. "It's difficult to stop, in some ways. I wonder if it might be similar with you. Less your sister, perhaps." "Riahla would have made a good weyrwoman. I don't think she would let herself become Tiriana," in spite of any similarities between the two. "But-," Suireh's lower lip disappears behind her teeth before she slowly releases it. She moves herself to reach forward for a glass, though not a sandwich. "Sometimes," confesses the journeyman known to flutter about the Masterharper, "I realize I still have turns to stand if I wanted. But I don't think my pride would let me do it again. I wonder-," continues the dark haired girl in a rare moment of sharing, "What would have happened had I stood for the egg Ysavaeth clutched out of. From everything I hear she-," but there's a shake of her head. "I wanted to know, while we're in the mood, if you'd heard from my father of late?" "I doubt it." Oh, but Aishani has to grin, remembering Monaco. The punching. No one can say Riahla and Suireh don't make things interesting. "She seems to be doing well at Monaco, though. Iesaryth misses that lot sometimes; she likes the beaches." Perhaps wisely, she leaves the journeyman's musings on staring alone, aside from noting, "You'd only need ask, but it seems you've a life here. And Ysavaeth..." She just shakes her head, glossy curls bouncing over her shoulders. "She was something else." Faintly admiring. "Not in some time, no. I heard there was an injury. I probably should have visited." She might look curious, but she doesn't ask the same. Family business. "Could you?" Perhaps she was looking for such opening, some moment to ask this favor of Aishani. "Check in on him, without mention that it was I that asked you to? I heard what happened and-... well, he is-," there's that grimace, similar to the one when births were mentioned, "My father, after all." Awkward for some reason -- maybe that it's awkward for the harper, or maybe that it's her own sort of dragon-family -- Aishani nods, once. "I could. I do visit now and again for all that things are not precisely... excellent with the Weyrwoman and I. It's not as if there isn't news, I suppose." A pause for a sip of juicee, then she offers, "I could mention that we had business, though. Can say that you're doing well, at least." "You can tell him-," Suireh tilts her head the sharp point of her chin turning in such a way that implies there are some mannerisms that are deeply embedded into a human's genetic background. She smiles slightly, crookedly and small. "Whatever you damn well please. I don't think he'd believe anything you say. If it's nice, then he'll disbelieve. If it's bad, he'll disbelieve. He's-," and much in the same way Aishani expressed admiration in tone for Ysavaeth, there's a small injection of distant admiration (and a little fear) for this man, "Something else." Smirking slightly, "Mm. Well enough. I'll think of something entertaining at least, then." Aishani might have some understanding there in her gaze before she finishes her juice and sets the sweating glass down before rising; if she was raised to lead, it was by her father, who no doubt is a figure of admiration in her mind. After all, look what she's done for him. "I'm glad you were here, for this. I wasn't sure who to trust, but I know that the Hall will be neutral... and interested in finding out what happened to their posted man." Maybe in revenge? Who knows. Suireh says nothing, the nothingness of it all telling enough perhaps that Harper Hall has their own agenda. "I'll be sure his widow finds out shortly. Quietly. He deserves a proper burial so again, whatever aid the Weyr can provide in finding him would be appreciated. There's only so much ground mere ears can cover and ears are unable to dig tangible dirt." As opposed to the grime of the rumor mill. With Aishani's glass set down, hers joins, though only half finished and she rises as well. "Do you need some help finding your way back out, weyrwoman?" "Perhaps I'll find a way to get word to the Weyrleaders without... an insistence on finding out where word came from, or offering it the 'safety' of the Weyr." For some reason, Aishani doesn't seem to think stashing Ienavi at High Reaches is the best idea. So that begs the question... where is Lady Nabol? As for finding her way out, the goldrider shakes her head. "No, I'll manage. I'm sure you should inform the people that need to be immediately. Thank you again, Suireh. And if there's any word that someone's close to finding Ienavi... do let me know?" Another quick smile before she excuses herself with a nod, leaving Suireh to do her harperly duties with the information she now has. The journeyman doesn't stay still. In fact, as the goldrider departs, Suireh's light steps carry her like a dancer's might from the little library towards the stairs. A hand reaches out to wrap delicately about Aishani's elbow. There are low words, "You would have to hope she hasn't already been found." They're light spoken, casual words that carry no other threat than the underlying meaning inherent in such pointed vagueness. She releases the elbow long enough to pass the tip of her finger over her lips and turns. "Please send my personal congratulations and regards to your new Weyrleadership. They have fathomless shoes to try and fill." There's an arch of fine brows as Aishani looks at Suireh, tilting her head to one side before she amends, "If she should be moved." Not that she'll give much more about where she is. But maybe that means she's in one place! Or not. With another nod, she laughs as she starts away, raising her voice to tell the journeyman, "I'll be sure to remind them of that." Standing on the shoulders of giants and all. There's a little wave before she disappears down the hall. The Masterharper's song bird, once would-be weyrwoman, watches the goldrider, once trader, leave. In the privacy of the empty corridor, Suireh allows wistful desires to play over her face and the curl of her finger, always reaching and wanting but just out of grasp. "Well," she finally breaks her self-silence, "What a pickle." And that's that. Inclining her head to some unseen shadow, the raven-haired girl turns back to the tea sandwiches, four of which are now gone.
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