Logs:Short Stick
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| RL Date: 19 October, 2014 |
| Who: Azaylia, Minara |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Minara is given the task to intrude on Azaylia's misery to keep the never-ending hidework from ending. |
| Where: Hraedhyth's Ledge, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 1, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: It is a rare day of cloudless sunshine, though the temperatures are markedly colder. |
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| Today, and the past few days, Hraedhyth is curled up on her ledge. Her usually bright brown-gold hide is ashen, gray dusted but looking even slightly better than before. But she's here, where everyone who needs the comfort of their last queen can see her. Her, and Azaylia, who leans against her dragon's side and looks out into the bowl. It's not so chilly, next to Hraedhyth, but she's still wrapped up in her cloak with a forgotten slab of paperwork in her lap. With no patience for her assistant's normal quality, the Weyrwoman's loose curls pool over her shoulders and down her back. She's looking out into the bowl, her own complexion dulled from rich bronze to pale yellow. Minara might have pulled the short stick to have been given this task today, but eventually she makes her way up to the goldriders' living areas... no, scratch that. Goldrider's living area. It's no wonder the young woman's footsteps slow the closer she gets, and there is really only one reason for her to be making the climb. The obvious one out on Hraedhyth's Ledge. Finally, clutching her folder of collected hides and parchments, Minara speaks up loud enough to carry to the gold's ledge. "Ma'am? I'm really sorry to bother you, ma'am," tone implying realy sorry, "but I was told to bring these to you." Tone further implying that someone had to. The words manage to reach one half of the pair, but probably not the one Minara was aiming for. Hraedhyth lifts her head, grayed eyes shifting to pin the younger woman with a stare that wouldn't be so bad if not for the silence. Usually so vocal, the queen doesn't so much as rumble her acknowledgement. Still, the longer she stares... "O-oh. Oh." Azaylia's slow, clumsy, as she leans forward to crane her neck and peer around a forelimb, "I-it's fine. It's aright. Ah, come here." Not as if Minara could possibly make the leap, "Through my weyr. We don't mind." Hraedhyth's rolling shoulders could be a silent argument, or it could just be she's getting comfortable before laying her pale head down. It doesn't seem as though Azaylia has any plans in moving-- call it a weyrwoman's privilege. Minara looks more and more nervous under the dragon's silent stare, so much so that she jumps a little when Azaylia speaks up. She recovers quickly... mostly. "Through the weyr. Right." It almost sounds collected. The thin woman disappears from the leadership ledge, and hurries through the weyrwoman's weyr to appear nearby within seconds. The flush to her cheeks could be from anything, really. The cooler temperatures, the climb, embarrassment, nerves. When she holds the folder toward Azaylia, however, it doesn't shake at least. "Lists from the stores, that... I guess needed your final approval," she explains, her expression a little pinched. "I really am sorry to bother you with it, ma'am." There's a single beat before she adds, "If you're up for it, I mean. It's not, like... dire or... Well. It could wait another day or two, I'm sure." Long arms require that Azaylia only stretch a bit to take the folder, "No, this is important." Quiet voice is even, if lacking any real inflection. Heavy eyes drop down to the lists, turning the pages so that she can scan the itinerary. It's only after a few moments, after she's not-read the same list several times before she realizes and gives a little shake of her head. "Sorry. I'm sorry." Painfully honest is her shame in failing this one, unnamed gopher. But then everything's been rubbed raw, made to feel so much worse than things actually are. There's a questioning look sent up to Minara, searching her face for a name, "Do you need to take them now? Or... I can hold onto them. They're delivered, safe and sound." Minara straightens quickly, as if guilty for tarrying. "Oh! No, ma'am. Sorry. I'm sure everyone would understand if--," beat of silence. "If, you know... if it took a little longer than usual." The flush deepens as Min steps in it. "Because this is far from a usual time." Because it really needed to be said out loud? Minara studies the things in Azaylia's hands, her folder only adding to what the other woman was already holding. "I'll leave you alone. Just... I mean." Hands would be wrung right now if she weren't pressing them so tightly against her legs. "I know I'm not much of anyone here, but there are a lot of no one's like me, so... if you need us--. I mean, if we can help somehow? Just... you know. Say the word. Whatever the job, there are lots of hands to do it." A soft swallow, "Pern is still spinning. Paperwork needs to get done. I..." Azaylia closes her eyes, gripping the folder and the pages beneath it hard enough to dent the paper. "You don't have to." From a low murmur to something more steady, though she's never had a big, boisterous voice to begin with, "Don't say that. You're not no one. I... don't know you, but you're someone to someone else." She has to be, right? Or it could be foolish optimism shining through her grief, needing to believe that no one is alone as one can feel. Her grip on the folder relaxes, and she offers it back up to Minara. "Just... look this over for me. Tell me if anything looks out of the ordinary?" Before she attempts to double-check it herself. Two pairs of eyes are better than one. Minara takes back the folder, though she doesn't open it, instead contemplating the rider and dragon as she gnaws lightly on her lower lip. "That's not really," she starts to protest, but whatever she was going to say, she drops it when she gets a better look at Azaylia. Dutifully, she opens the folder and begins reading. There are several different kinds of list, some take longer than others, but eventually she closes the folder again, on the verge of handing it back. "Seems pretty standard to me. Though some of it seems like stockpiling more than necessary. Better off waiting for trade rates to drop in spring." She finally reaches out again, holding the hides toward Azaylia. "Then again, the Weyr's way bigger than I'm used to, and I don't know the finances. Just the stores. A little bit." With her duties effectively foisted onto this unnamed, unknown young woman, Azaylia is given more time to sit and stare ahead. Minara's protest doesn't earn an apology, as for now the Weyrwoman is embracing the ease her authority allows her. It's a few minutes after Minara's finished that the goldrider straightens up, accepting the folder once again. "Thank you, yes. Not really stockpiling, more... security. It's fine." It helps, the added security Minara's eyes grant, allowing Azaylia to actually read before signing it with that familiar, feminine handwriting. "Everything's fine." At least, as far as the stores are concerned. The folder exchanges hands one last time, meant to be sent off with Minara, "Thank you." "Fine. Yes. I mean... thank you," Minara replies quickly, not entirely stammering, but not entirely solid either. She gestures slightly with the folder as she says it, then lets it drop to her side as she considers the weyrwoman for a long moment. Rather than share whatever's going on in her head, however, Min simply repeats her thanks, adding a quiet utterance of "clear skies" before turning to hurry through Azaylia's weyr once more, soon reappear to skip down the stairs to the bowl, taking two at a time. Luckily, she does not break her neck, helping prolong the Weyr's current record of Days Without Death to three. |
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