Logs:Negotiating For a Body
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| RL Date: 3 December, 2014 |
| Who: Prinavi, Azaylia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Telgar Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Telgar's Weyrwoman visits High Reaches to discuss Iskiveth and, more importantly, Teris. |
| Where: Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 11, Month 6, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Teris/Mentions |
| To Hraedhyth, Viyareth's intrusion is subtle, first a flicker of lights on a dark horizon and then gently creeping in from the side into the Reachian senior queen's thoughts. « Good afternoon, » is Telgar's polite greeting. « Prinavi would visit High Reaches and see your rider if she might have the time. » One might suspect that this is a far more coached requested than the rider might be capable of given the mild twinges of exasperation causing the most peripheral lights to flicker in and out. A foreigner on the borders of her thoughts brings about a low rumble from Hraedhyth's drums, the subtle touch reminiscent of stealth. At Viyareth's greeting she's much more amiable, fire lit in warm welcome, « You and Yours are welcome. » It could be she's made the decision herself, for it's only now that Azaylia's presence weighs in, « Mine waits in the council room. » Chambers. Whichever. Viyareth's coming is swift, almost as if she was poised mid-flight for the acceptance of her request and just betweening. When she emerges high above, there's a rumbled greeting for the watchrider on the Spires and an immediate downward path. Once Telgar's queen lands, the rider pauses, poised at the top to survey her surroundings, a long, leisurely glance taking in the various openings and the types of people going into them. It's the stairs, however, that lead up towards the Weyrleaders' cavern system that Prinavi strides up, once she's dismounted, pausing there to regain her bearings. Making a best guess at it ends up with her backing out of an empty junior goldrider's weyr and it's the third guess that has her approaching the council room. There's a roar from Hraedhyth, a greeting, while she remains perched on a high ledge and the blue it belongs to. Viyareth has landed, and her rider has dismounted, but Prinavi doesn't immediately appear in the council room. It's a few minutes before Azaylia stands, caught halfway out of her chair when the Telgar Senior arrives, "Oh." She commits to standing, pushing back her chair to approach Prinavi, "High Reaches duties to Telgar, Weyrwoman." Motioning to a chair, she returns to her seat only if the other woman sits as well. "I can only guess as to the reason of your visit." Not that she intends to voice it. "I got lost," says Prinavi breathlessly, doffing her gloves as her riding cap's already at hand. Her dark hair's braided and coiled about her head in two doughnut-like spirals at the nape and the sting of between's chill lingers in a ruddy mask on her cheeks. "I've never visited High Reaches before." But that's not why she's here, and catching glance of that motion to sit, the young woman opts to stand for a second longer in, not quite insolence, but at least careful regard of the situation, the room, the woman she speaks to. Dark eyes travel the length of Azaylia up and down before settling on her face, and a small cat-like smile curves before it flattens into solemnity. "Can you?" The gloves tap twice on her leg before she moves, really slinks, to the chair indicated and sits in the one next to it. "Should we exchange pleasantries first, Weyrwoman? Prinavi, rider of Viyareth who was clutched out of Iskiveth turns ago." "Oh, I'm sorry." As if Prinavi's getting lost was her fault, and surely Azaylia can twist it to be. "One of those things-- been living here for so long I forget not everyone knows the ins and outs." It's obvious that the Reachian Weyrwoman is alert, bordering on tense, though that could just be nerves. She's still polite, and certainly genuine, whether it is to be believed or not. Azaylia couldn't have been far from the council chambers, but the unexpected nature of the visit is found in her sundress and the lack of prepared refreshments. They're likely on their way. There's a curl of her lips as Prinavi sits, an odd expression that is closer to curiosity than anything settling as she returns to her seat. "I thought I was, but... Azaylia, rider of Hraedhyth." She doesn't seem surprised at Viyareth's lineage, but there are only so many gold dragons on Pern. "I'm sorry this happened." To her dragon's dam, or at all. "Frankly," Prinavi starts, her voice not bothering to lower in the tones of confiding. Instead, it's as frank as she starts out with. "Teris hasn't been an asset to Telgar in turns and this may have been a blessing in disguise." The tone and words are clinical, at odds with the youthful, pliably cuddly vision the physical manifestation the Telgar Weyrwoman makes. A long moment passes where the goldrider's eyes linger on the dress, and the smile suddenly floats back and this, this Prinavi has the decency to aside in a lowered voice, "After all this is over, you'll have to tell me who your weaver is. I love that fabric." Azaylia's startled by the words, by the blunt honesty of them-- or what she believes to be the truth. "That..." Yes, even after so long the Weyrwoman can be surprised when meeting with other leaders. And yet, "Is sad to hear." If not eerily familiar. Still, "Too much death. Too many golds going between." If Prinavi's goal is to keep her on her toes, mission accomplished. The compliment earns several blinks, and she smooths her hand over the thin, layered fabric. "O-oh. Thank you, I... I like to try different weavers. This is from Igen, actually." Wait. She gives a little shake of her head, "But, about Teris." Her hands fold in front of her, "I take it that means you don't want to see her, during your visit?" Prinavi sits back, her gloves coming to be placed properly in her lap, draped across her riding cap. "But," lest Azaylia get too comfortable in the side note about clothes and the confession of Teris, "Whether she was addicted to fellis or not, or Impressed and birthed at High Reaches, she is our rider." She lets that statement hang in the air, succinct, for once in this conversation. Addicted to fellis? Clearly news to Azaylia, her brows raising as she listens, though there is a knowing squint as it suddenly becomes clear. "You'd like her back at Telgar?" And if that's the case, "I have no objections. She was of your Weyr, after all." "It's not a subject we care to bandy about in public." Prinavi says shortly. But in the next moment she's relenting and warmer, a free hand rising to rest on the table's edge. "I didn't learn of it until I became Weyrwoman and then J'sran let me in on the horrible little secret. Most of our riders are not aware. The ones who suspect well-," the young woman shrugs elegantly in spite of her riding leathers. "It is lucky it was not Iskiveth who rose after-," and her the Telgar Weyrwoman purses her lips and looks to Azaylia a long long long moment. "After the leadership vacuum left by Torani." Which is, apparently, another subject they don't care to bandy about in public. "You won't mention this outside of this room, please?" Azaylia is at a loss for words, not wanting to offend even as Prinavi has no qualms when it comes to Teris. "Yes," She finally decides, "It certainly sounds as though you and Viyareth were much better suited." Not just a compliment, but fact given what she knows now. The question for confidentiality comes just as she's becoming particularly pensive, thoughtful gaze lifting with surprise. "Oh! Of course not. You have my word." Though, "I'm... could that have been part of the reason? For Iskiveth being suddenly lost between?" It's still a mystery, after all. Prinavi considers a spot on the table. Not a real spot, just a place her eyes latch onto. Her voice, this low alto begins slowly, as if words are being fed to her, or she has to think each one out word by word, "Telgar Weyr absolves High Reaches of any," and on this word, she looks up to look at Azaylia, "Fault in this matter. Nor do we desire your Weyr to investigate further. It was an accident. We accept it as such. But Teris-," the young woman's face softens, her lower lip catching in between her teeth as she exhales out the corners of her mouth. "I remember when I Impressed and her dragon was the clutch dam. She was a striking, difficult to understand, woman. She deserves dignity and the accounts out of High Reaches are alarming. That the healers are denying her this last act. No matter what my personal opinion of her is, she deserves this respect. I thank you for being gracious in allowing our rider back." For all of it, perhaps Azaylia is too genuine. More surprise, and then her expression fades into soft consideration as Prinavi speaks, until her face is set in regret. "Thank you, Prinavi. I am still very sorry you lost a queen." Her brows become heavy and she gives a curt nod, sudden and stern. "I'm glad to. I apologize for not offering sooner. The healers here... They don't understand. Or perhaps they can't. But you will have her back." Even if those same healers intend to make it a difficult task, it'll be seen through. "You have your hands full with figuring out if one of your riders was involved in a queen's death. Tragedy seems to plague High Reaches, one way or another," says the goldrider who took over a Weyrwomanship with tenuous legality. "As I have your permission, I will visit the infirmary and speak with the healers about relinquishing her care to our Weyr. Thank you, Azaylia." Sincerity suddenly dissolves the formality of Prinavi's poise and once again she's glancing wistfully at the fabric. "I was needing an excuse to go visit with Nimae and get the gossip from her directly. Igen, right?" The curvaceous young woman stands and tucks her riding gloves and hooks her riding cap along her belt. "It was a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm only just starting to get my bearings. Clear skies to you and your Weyr." Azaylia lets out a soft hum, more of a displeased grind when Prinavi first speaks, but she doesn't argue. "It does. But, tragic or not, it's still home." She gives a soft nod, standing as Prinavi does, manners not forgotten. "Igen, yes." It's not wistful, but there might be a hint of longing for the Telgar Weyrwoman's ability to visit freely. "You're welcome to visit as you like, Prinavi. If the healers are difficult, please let me know." She gathers up her things, looking to return to her work and the spot she's picked for herself outside. "Clear skies." |
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