Logs:Family Matters
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| RL Date: 8 July, 2016 |
| Who: Jocelyn, Mirinda |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr, Monaco Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Jocelyn asks Mirinda for advice on suggesting a candidate deal with Monaco. |
| Where: Mountain Meadow, High Reaches Area |
| When: Day 28, Month 3, Turn 41 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, Cora/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Kyouri/Mentions, Nimae/Mentions, Oriane/Mentions |
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| Is it surprising for Mirinda and Zaisavyth that in the days following her first flight, Aidavanth reaches out to the pair with a request for some time in which their riders might visit? It's not quite a formal question, and not exactly not. Likewise, the setting Jocelyn proposes for their meeting is one that's carefully been considered; although very much in the High Reaches region, this particular meadow among the mountains is just far enough removed from the weyr proper that it feels as if it belongs somewhere else entirely. It's a pretty place, and one that grows more appealing every day as the spring days take firmer hold with warmer breezes and the scents of freshly growing things. Checkered blanket at the ready with a selection of small snacks and a chilled skin nestled between two glasses, the younger goldrider sits back on her heels after laying out the little spread, dark trousers pressed uncaringly into the ground as she arranges and rearranges the cloth napkins, expression almost nervous as she glances up toward the afternoon sun from time to time. Zaisavyth's response to Aidavanth is characteristically cool, most particularly - or so it seems - due to the location of the visit, her disapproval at having to leave what counts as hers blatantly clear. That it is rapidly tamped down is certainly something to do with her rider, and so a mulish, sulky response follows in time: they'll be there. Soon after the appointed time, Zaisavyth's sunstruck form appears, high above the mountains as if in making her descent, she might be properly admired from below. Mirinda's lips press together as they land, though the tell-tale vacant look in her eyes suggests it may have more to do with her queen than Jocelyn; in any case, the latter abruptly earns a warmer smile as the Weyrwoman turns her gaze that way, lifting one hand in greeting. "Jocelyn," she calls. "You're well, I hope." Collected in the face of such a response, Aidavanth is surely aware of the other queen's arrival, whirling gaze lifting upward once the current holder of Fort's seniorship emerges. There's calm acknowledgment, a welcome extended while Zaisavyth's descendant, too, certainly looks well. She's a gleaming picture of excellent draconic health, hide bright in the wake of recent events and undoubtedly an oiling before she left her ledge. "Weyrwoman Mirinda, " returns Jocelyn with undisguised relief, pushing to her feet. "I'm as well as one ought to be after all of that, I suppose. I'm glad you were able to make it." Something eases slightly in the set of her shoulders, and a little nod gets tipped toward the blanket in silent invitation. "I hope you don't mind the informality - or the setting. It seemed the least conspicuous of the options at hand." It's not quite an afterthought, but there's a pause before she hastily adds, "And you and Zaisavyth? I hope the turn has been kind to you both." Turn, for it's been a little over so long since they've had an opportunity to talk. Has it been as much as a turn? It has, and the look on Mirinda's face - briefly horrified, then rather more resigned - acknowledges it. She climbs down, resting one controlling hand upon her queen's forelimb as she rights herself upon the ground: a warning, if ever there was one. Zaisavyth heeds it, at least, and though she swings her neck imperiously, she issues no other challenge. "We're well, thank you," she says by way of answer, as she approaches. "Though the turn has gone both too quickly, and not quickly enough; the way of things, I suppose. The informality is fine-- that is, it's good to get out of things, and always best not to overstay one's welcome at another Weyr." Especially with a queen like Zaisavyth. Her upwards glance towards Aidavanth is silent acknowledgement, further to her earlier query, of that recent flight, but Mirinda evidently elects not to pursue the topic immediately, and instead: "I'm glad to see spring." Having settled that the informality isn't unappreciated, Jocelyn promptly seats herself cross-legged on the blanket, looking comfortable enough despite still being in her business casual from the morning. "I enjoy winters - less so when they're as frigid as this one was and people get a little restless. But spring isn't half bad. Welcome enough to most after the past few months, I daresay." She doesn't miss that look up at the orange-gold, who offers Mirinda a low-voiced, warm vocalization; all is well, so far as she's concerned. Never one for beating around bushes or getting carried away with small talking pleasantries, the redhead's hands clasp about her knees, expression turning determined. "We spoke once of - descendants and familial connections." It might be a rather abrupt segue. "I don't know how many eggs will come of Aidavanth's flight, or if all of them will hatch, " matter-of-factly, then earnestly: "but I stand by what I said before; I won't turn away Monaco-born candidates for them to stand with our own. I don't know how K'del or Irianke would feel about it, but I think it's - fair, somehow, and right, to propose to offer them the chance to Impress, to train here with us if they do, and to choose where they'd like to fly afterward." Anything more Mirinda might say about winters - and her own evident distaste for them - goes unspoken, for the Monacoan-turn-Fortian goldrider is more inclined to focus on folding herself into a straight-backed seat across from Jocelyn, one hand pressed to each knee. There's an exhale - not sharp enough to be surprise or shock - to follow the younger goldrider's segue, followed almost immediately by a gentle inclination of her chin. "You might," she supposes, after a few moments, "do well to encourage it as a way of furthering the relationship resumed by Monaco's new-- no longer quite so new, that is-- Weyrleader. I would only caution not to allow Kyouri any rope with which to suggest you seek to take advantage of her Weyr to fill your sands." The dark-haired goldrider is serious, but that chin nudges forward again, as if to offer some tacit approval that she'll not venture to express in words. Jocelyn looks very much as if she'd like to toss her head at the very notion of even seeming to take advantage of Monaco's resources, but perhaps it's the paucity of candidates for their last two clutches that stills that expression, turning it instead into a sharp nod. "We were notably concerned about filling our sands the last time, " the then-headwoman-turned-candidate says with a glance back toward her lifemate. "We'll need a robust group already present in the barracks so that there can be no suspicion on that front. Then again, there's the risk of it appearing as though we don't actually want them to have a chance of Impressing if they're a minority in the group." It's a testament to the younger weyrwoman's comfort with the other that she muses thusly aloud, lips pursing faintly. "It would be a good opportunity for them, too. With only one producing queen, if, as you've said, Evielth no longer rises, there are fewer chances for Monaco's promising young people to stand at home. She stands to gain some riders, or at worst, to lose some candidates who may age out of the eligible range before Torith is ready to fly again anyway." Pause. "You worked with her for a short time. Do you know enough of her to know which approach would best inspire a favorable reaction?" Dark eyes consider Jocelyn, withholding comment until the younger woman has finished speaking, though there's genuine interest in her expression as to the contents of those thoughts. "Monaco has never been queen-heavy," Mirinda says, at length, the tone of her words suggesting that she's still working through what she means to say. "As a result, it is a smaller-than-usual Weyr, at least as far as northern Weyrs go. Monaco does not need more riders. Having said that," and she seems more certain, now, "Kyouri is isolated at Monaco. She arrived at a time of great disharmony; of ill-will towards her people. I would emphasise the building of bridges, though I warn she may have trade demands of her own. Benden." It's a statement of that northern Weyr's politics, but a self-aware one: Cora's politics are not so terribly different to what Oriane's were, after all. While listening, Jocelyn leans forward slightly to pour some of the contents of the condensation-beaded skin into one of the glasses, leaving it where it is in silent offer to Mirinda before serving herself in the other. It's a spring-cold water that must have been absorbing flavor from floating citrons and similar fruits, for there's a hint of flavor present without being overwhelming. "Benden, " repeats the High Reaches goldrider after a moment, brow knitting. "A good result from an accord on swapping candidates - unlike the deal that Nimae had with us when we thought we were only borrowing Irianke - would benefit Kyouri, too. But all of this speculation is for nothing if she isn't amenable to the idea in the first place." Fingers drumming impatiently atop one knee while the other presses the rim of her cup to her lips, the redhead inclines her head briefly after a long swallow. "Thank you for your help. Even if she thinks the idea not worth pursuing on that scale, I'd like to see some Monaco faces on our sands come hatching day, even if there are just one or two of them." A stubborn lift of her chin is given in emphasis, but the corners of her mouth lift, just a little. Mirinda accepts the glass, though she transfers it from one gloved hand to another idly, rather than immediately lifting it to sip. A solemn nod confirms Jocelyn's words, teeth resting carefully upon her lower lip as she gives thoughtful consideration to the rest. "I do believe it is worth pursuing, Jocelyn," she says, simply. "Else I would not encourage it. I would encourage some of the youngest of my cousins to pursue the idea from Monaco, but... I do not think members of my family would necessarily send the correct message. It seems, to me, that we might all do well to exchange candidates more frequently. I wish you well with this. Mind..." A pause, and this time, the weyrwoman seems ever so slightly uncertain. "Tread carefully. It isn't that I think Kyouri would likely wish it-- a Monacoan-line queen-- but she is on her own. I know that being sent to Monaco would not be your wish." There are little, concurring nods up until Mirinda's last. That gives Jocelyn due pause, and it's with great care that she sets her glass down, expression briefly shuttering. "Irianke mentioned Monaco once, while I was a weyrling. Some might view such an exchange as one that's ironically just. Send the High Reaches native to Monaco for the Vijay-partnered daughter we lost, get candidates in exchange and the two weyrs are left with an equal number of queens." A grimace follows, and the younger weyrwoman stares at the rim of her cup as if it might hold some profound nugget of wisdom before lifting her eyes to find Mirinda's again at some length. "You're right. I don't wish to leave. I'll be careful." Her gaze grows distant for a moment, followed by a renewed set to her jaw. "It doesn't ever get easier, does it, the conflict between the course of your own livelihood and what's best for your weyr." The lines of her features soften, then, arranging themselves into a look best called rueful before the small upturn to her lips is masked by her glass. Mirinda's lips press together, tight and sharp, until a long breath is exhaled and released again; that's when she nods. "No," she confirms. "It never does. When you Impressed Aidavanth, you became a servant to not just your home, but to Pern itself; the same was true when I Impressed Zaisavyth. It's not an easy thing to reconcile with personal freedoms - I won't begin to imply that I have made my complete peace with it." She sips, then, and as she swallows her mouth turns up into something resembling a smile. "If it helps, I do believe Kyouri was relieved when Torith did not lay a queen in her most recent flight; it is my guess that she hopes, next time, for a Monacoan bronze to catch, so that she might possibly have a junior that is both Monacoan and hers." Jocelyn absorbs the older woman's words silently, eyebrows lifting faintly for the tail end of Mirinda's speculation. "If that's indeed what she would most like, I'm hardly a suitable - acquisition for her." Not when she's High Reaches through and through, and defers to her own superior more out of rank and duty than loyalty. "You've given me a lot to think about." There's an opening for her to say that she has another meeting, that she should depart in the natural ebb and flow of their conversation - but she nurses the beading glass in her hands instead, considering Fort's Weyrwoman over its rim. "I'll certainly keep you updated - and we'd both like to see you and Zaisavyth visit the eggs, before and while they hatch. In some tenuously connected manner, it'd be somewhat like having family present, I imagine." Her tone doesn't exactly waver, but she permits a note of uncertainty to appear just at the end, clearing her throat after. Acknowledgement for that first remark comes in Mirinda's near-rueful smile, and the hint of amusement; she's well and truly aware of that, and perhaps there is some humour to be found in the idea of Kyouri and Jocelyn, working together in a Weyr foreign to them both. It's as she lifts her glass to her lips for another sip that the latter part of Jocelyn's words reaches her ears, and though there's a gentle dip of her chin in immediate answer, it's that uncertainty afterwards that truly draws her attention. One hand drops to her knee, hesitant, as she says, "I would be honoured to be there. They will be Zaisavyth's descendants, and that makes them part of me, too - as you are." That, that last, is firm, offered with a lift of eyebrows that seems intended as emphasis. Jocelyn's clearly at least somewhat surprised by Mirinda's expression, and it shows in the way she carefully, awkwardly sets down her cup, lacing her fingers together in her lap. "Thank you, " she manages quietly, eyes very bright. "It - means a great deal. To both of us." So much so that she takes a few minutes to open up about her history and to ask for accounts of Monaco from the perspective of someone who's lived there nearly her entire life, who loves this other Weyr as much as she loves her own. When she eventually does pack up to depart, it's with sincerely delivered well wishes and a warm clasp of hands. |
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