Logs:Refresh
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| RL Date: 8 October, 2015 |
| Who: Hattie, E'dre, Elaruth, Wroth |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Hattie forces E'dre to take some time off. |
| Where: Council Room, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 12, Month 13, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: N'rov/Mentions, Ebeny/Mentions, N'muir/Mentions, X'vin/Mentions, Edric/Mentions |
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| There's snow still stuck to the floor of the bowl; snow currently being investigated and slid across by Elaruth in quite an unqueenly fashion. While she has her fun outside, Hattie is bundled up inside, blanket wrapped firmly around her where she sits at the head of the table in the council room. The hearth burns low, yet not for lack of available fuel, the light low too, as if something brighter could bring with it the chill of the world beyond the ledge. Reports from various caverns staff sit before her, her reading of them a half-distracted thing, her attention split between hidework and knitting in progress. Wroth, as ever, is uninterested in the snow and those that find pursuit of the white powder as a source of entertainment. Still, he lingers near the bowl and watches Elaruth as she pushes through the snow in her investigation. E'dre heads into the council room with a clipped purpose, pausing near the doorway to strip his flight gear off and hang it. "Aren't you cold?" he queries, looking to Hattie with surprise before he heads towards that hearth to add fuel to the fire and stoke it higher. "I'm beginning to wonder if this weather will be an issue to the Threadfall competition. Maybe I should've slated it for spring." He shakes his head and sighs as he heads over to slouch into a chair near Hattie. "It sounded like something that'd add a bit more pep to the day-to-day though. And soon we'll have Turn's End to celebrate," he adds, settling his arms on the table. "I didn't want to move," Hattie admits in a muttering-murmur, even her hands only escaping the blanket enough to ensure that needles can be manipulated as they must be. "It'll be a better test in poorer weather," she supposes. "It's not as if Thread will only ever fall on a nice summer's day." She uses the end of one of the needles to nudge the topmost hide over to reveal the next one in the pile. "We can't exactly throw an expensive party when we're cutting everyone's pay," the Weyrwoman remarks with a roll of her eyes. "I'd thought of suggesting to Lady Jenilynn to host something as a gesture of goodwill, but I think that'd be pushing our luck just a little bit." That, and her eyes go cold the moment she mentions her. "I agree with you on that and Hematite drills no matter the weather," E'dre comments with a shrug, "but some of our wings don't push their rider's nearly as hard. I'd hate for there to be some accident that could've been prevented." He shakes his head and glances towards the flames, "I'll encourage the competitiveness of it and perhaps people will want to win and so will begin practicing in anticipation of it." He puffs out a snort at the mention of their financial situation. "If those who like to undermine me had their way, we'd be going to the Holds and simply help them set up for their celebrations and then go home with a few marks in our hands and 'improved goodwill' between us." He looks back to Hattie and lifts a brow, "With the financial issues here and all this tension and perceived tension regarding tithes, you'd think we'd be fielding more requests for transfers out." "If there is an accident," Hattie says slowly, "then it's a lesson." She must realise just how harsh she sounds, for not so many moments later, she adds, "Not that I wish anyone hurt, but we have the luxury of our 'Fall being pretend. Too many generations haven't - and won't - have the choices we do." Careful in how she watches E'dre, her focus not resting on him for too long, she holds her breath in an effort to evade commenting on 'undermining', more to silence herself than anything. "The financial issues," she eventually states, "aren't nearly so large as have been suggested. If you listened to some people talk, we're on our knees. But then, unless there is a problem, there's no-one needed to fix it." She shrugs. "Discrepancies? Difficulties? Yes. Meltdown? No." "You know how it works when people talk," E'dre answers, shrugging his shoulders. "And the more negative people will see the worst case scenario and cry that it's the truth. I have yet to be thanked for taking the largest cut, have you? And yet, those who I hear complaining about their cuts, are often the ones who have had barely any wages garnished." He considers the table for a moment and then looks to her, "I'm beginning to wonder if our discrepancies aren't being used as leverage to force us to give ourselves over to the Holds more and more." He holds up a hand to stall her from speaking, continuing with, "and I'm not saying that from the standpoint that I disagree with most involvement with them. When Edric made that road suggestion to me, and when I have others telling me we need to 'show we earn our tithes' I'm wondering if we don't have people in our midst who are here for the Holds gains only." "I don't expect thanks." Hattie is a little too blunt in that reply, turning it into a near reprimand whether she means it to be or not. "And I'm not entirely against expanding the roads somewhat, but it's a lot to assume that all the Holds and cotholds would want us to do so, let alone the damage we could do for future turns entirely by accident." She shrugs and lets her needles slow to a stop. "...Holders have a lot more resources to draw from to show their thanks to individuals, by dint of being able to produce those resources. I'm less apt to think that it's a matter of being on their side, but of personal gain." Averting her gaze again, she murmurs, "...They're really getting to you, aren't they?" "I wasn't speaking on expecting it," E'dre replies to that bluntness with some of his own, "but when people complain to me about it I have a hard timereminding them I'm hardest hit." He shakes his head and waves a hand towards the door. "It all boils down to personal gain. Maybe what this Weyr truly needs is Thread to remind them what our real purpose is. I realize that most haven't had to fight it nor were born to remember even the comet pass," he sighs, "but we're riders, not woodcutters and laborers." He doesn't notice her gaze aversion as he focuses on the table. "I'm doing better than I have in the past," he reasons, a smirk surfacing, "considering my track record. But, yes. I'm feeling the strain." He hesitates, looking briefly to her and then away. "And so is my family." "If you say it too many times, you might summon it back," Hattie answers dryly, though not without an edge of something near to real dread, her attempt at humour falling flat even to her ears. If only to hasten away from it, she tells him, "I can handle everything here for a few days if you need to take some time away. And don't start in on 'it'll look like I'm running away' or any of that nonsense. I have Erinta and her assistants, and I'm sure N'rov and C'stian can handle anything with the wings between them while you're gone." Needles start up again. "Go and see your children." It's the mention of N'rov that darkens E'dre's features. "No," he tells her flatly, "I will not leave any of it to N'rov," he shakes his head at the mention of C'stian, "And C'stian I wouldn't put in this position as it stands now." He scrubs at his face and offers her an attempt at a smile. "I'll keep wishing for Thread to return to show these assholes what it means to face it and silence their disdain for me that way." He seems intent on changing subjects as he leans forward, "Really, though. Do you and Erinta have anything planned for Turns End? I know we can't do anything dramatic, but we've got M'vyn singing regularly now and the Harper's I've asked to help with the Threadfall are amiable enough I'm sure I could ask them to perform as well." Hattie is perhaps annoyingly dismissive when she rushes to assure, "The food is planned, and the drink, and something for the children to give their parents a bit of a break for some of the evening, if they wish." She purses her lips. "If you've Harpers we can ply with food and drink to supplement our own performers, then by all means." Silence then, until she declares, "You have a choice, E'dre," all too lightly for what follows. "You can take the time and the days off gracefully and hopefully return refreshed, or I can have Elaruth run you out and away until I'm prepared for you to return." Whether she would, well. "Choose." E'dre lifts a brow at her. "Perhaps I'm supplementing them by giving them what little marks I have to offer out," is his all-too-dry reply. "You know it'd aid in the festivities if we had some show of trying to make it special outside of the norm." He answers her silence by rising and moving to go and fetch a cup of lukewarm klah. He's mid-stride back towards the table with the cup lifted to his lips when her delivery is made. "No," he replies firmly, "I won't choose. I asked the same of you, don't you remember? After the tithe? I said 'Go and take a break' and you damn near accused me of telling you off in the same breath!" He stands there, glaring at his cup rather than at her. "I will not leave this knot for any other until it's wrested from my hand by the man who wins the next goldflight." There's the faintest sensation of something like pressure at the edge of Wroth's mind, the atmosphere thinned to such an extent that its creeping tendrils feel near to gravity. The scent and tang of salt and ash accompanies Elaruth's wordless presence, the waters beneath that too-thin air a mass of rippling shadows. She does as bid, but she doesn't have to like it, even when she provides only a taste and suggestion. Her rider declares, "I'm sure you know by now that it's one rule for me and one for everyone else in that respect," with a cool kind of arrogance. "You need a break. Choose a wingleader or your 'seconds to watch over things in your absence, but you are taking a break." That pressure is met with a flare of resistance, Wroth's clouds swirling overhead into the beginnings of a violent storm. They can't leave, they won't leave. And then just as suddenly as his storm gathered it shifts on and an eerie calm and quiet fills the space. E'dre's temper flares as easily as Wroth's does as he slams his fist on the table. "It is only because of you being my Weyrwoman for turns that I'll go. Out of respect for you and your judgement. If I come back and X'vin or any of the others has so much as stepped out of line, 'refreshed'," he uses two fingers of each hand to quote around that word, "or not, I'm grounding them." He looks away from her then and towards the door, sighing. "I suppose the girls will appreciate seeing me for more than a few hours." He looks back to her and then pinches his chin with thumb and forefinger. "What do you think of me letting N'rov help?" Hypocrite that she is, Hattie remarks, "You should do it out of respect for yourself," under her breath, followed by, "Your temper has nothing on N'muir." True or not, it could explain why she sits there so unfazed. "And you need to stop fixating on X'vin, or you'll miss something far more vital than an ambitious bronzerider." As regards N'rov, she shrugs. "I think if you want to train him, then he needs practice. He has a habit of catching queens. You might come back to discover he's renamed the wings, but I don't think he'll do any real harm." Something softens in E'dre's gaze as he watches her. "At least you can claim someone is worse than me," he offers at an attempted joke, "in terms of temper. Ebeny would disagree." He rubs at the back of his neck for a moment and then releases his hands to dangle at his side. "That habit of N'rov's was one of the reasons why I tapped him to 'second," he tells her and then the ease leaves him in a flash, "he also has a habit of catching greens." He shakes his head and twitches a shoulder. "It'll do him good to see how it is to handle the day-to-day here. If there are any real issues, I know you're more than capable to handle it. I'll come back and leave X'vin alone, if the man can stop needling me to the point that I want to choke him." His lips tighten and then he sighs. "Did you need to discuss anything else with me before I go?" "Yes, well... I'd rather suffer an ill-tempered man than a pushover." It's said so quietly that she might be talking to herself more than to E'dre. Hattie seems more intent on watching him as he speaks than making commentary of her own, and though she narrows her eyes a little, she manages to keep herself from proffering argument or poking at something that might be best left alone. Instead, she tells him, "No," with a gentleness that doesn't match the suddenly fierce concentration she directs towards her knitting, then lifts to the hides. "Nothing that can't wait until you're back, anyway. I'll try to keep from provoking Jenilynn or Vaion about who said what and when and why and all sorts of arrangements." Either a joke or a weak promise. "Go." "Political mishaps are more my style aren't they?" E'dre jokes with a shrug and a small smile that disappears as he reminds her, "I needn't stay away as long as you've told me. Just send word if I am needed sooner." He turns and leaves then, heading out to organize what needs to be organized before he can go. There may be more than a small amount of gossip that circulates in his absence, those questioning the choice of his timing, and also that he leaves without Ebeny. At least in the distance between he and the Weyr the brownrider will be oblivious to all that is and isn't said about him. |
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