The Dragonriders of PernŽ is a trademark, Registered U.S. Patent & Trademark Office, of Anne McCaffrey. This is a recorded session, generated by Harper's Tale MOO on Tuesday 6 January 2004 for the benefit of members unable to attend. Logged by Pyrene.
Fallen Foe
"Better /anyone/ that Ike, Weyrwoman. /Anyone/," Lylia hisses back, venom in her voice. "He made an error that cannot be forgiven. I will root for any dragon other than his on this day." She'd certainly prefer it to not be a Cloudburst rider, but in her tunnel-vision, there's one important goal of the day. More loudly, she leans back and turns to Tatia. "I won't let /unfair treatment/ get rewarded with support."
Pyrene's eyes are starting to dilate, and she's acquiring... well... not quite a /sway/ in her step, but there's certainly more sashay to her gait than previously. She's getting closer--or further away, depending on how you look at it. "Oh, Ike has his redeeming qualities," she murmurs, sending him a smile of overwhelming affection.
Nyhia smiles innocently at Pyrene, gulping silently to herself in her mind because she didn't expect to be asked such a question. She doesn't seem to trust her voice but she doesn't seem to know what to do either so she just nods silently, pretending she was asked if she'd like a plate of cookies.
"Then stop supporting your ex-wingleader," Sii'kyn states silkily to Lylia, from behind her. Is he /looking/ to get hit? Perhaps. Or maybe he's just feeling the bloodlust of his lifebond. "Since she has no idea what 'fair treatment' means. Well, perhaps a fist to the eye counts, in her book.." Ike. Please. Don't. V'der tags behind, watching as Ike offers one of his /most/ charming, huskily lopsided grins to Pyrene. Oh, indeed, Faranth help us all.
Maybe it's prurient interest, maybe she's got a few bets riding on the outcome of this flight, or maybe Wyn's lurking about with an eye to being around to record history, but the little bluerider's managed to make an appearance in the caverns just now. Or maybe, with the way the conversation's heading south, she's shown up to help pull random people apart or fetch healers if needs be. She doesn't bother to introduce herself, just takes a seat offside from the action and waits.
"Pity none of them have to do with /leadership/," Lylia growls, and whirls around to face Sii'kyn. The rider bares her teeth -- Druseth's certainly feeling the blood in his veins, and it's getting to the rider. "You are /Weyrleader/, for the moment, and you didn't even think about the consequences to the wing. Tatia's served the Weyr longer than you have, /sir/," she growls. "I support the one who has done the most for the wing. You can't keep us locked up, and expect us to remain docile and /stupid/ under your will! All we needed was /some/ sort of statement or answer to our wingleader. Do you have /any/ care for those who live in this Weyr?"
"Very interesting /indeed/," C'radoc mutters to R'meld, and to himself, edging forward a little. "A little in-Weyr chaos is /such/ a terrible thing." His voice is too quiet to be heard by any others. But there's a glimmer in his eye, undeniably. Opportunity has indeed shown itself.
Tatia whips around with vehemence, eyeing Ike with an ice-cold glare. "It's not as if I've anything else to lose, /weyrleader/, so if you're looking for a black eye, I can certainly provide one!" she spits. "Of course, it doesn't surprise me that it's too much to expect you to actually /focus/ on the issue at /hand/. Much more of this and you can join me in my demoted rank. /Weyrleader./"
L'uc really starts drinking the ale once the argument gets heated. "Well, I think Ike's a great Weyrleader." he pipes up. "He's done a fine job, in my opinion." Nod. And if he gets slapped for saying so.. So let it be written, so let it be done. Now, Jydhaeth seems to be influencing his actions and speech. The bronze is so laid back, he just wants his bond to feel /good/ during this flight. Hence the heavy drinking. "And /another/ thing..!" Is he ranting now? Good Faranth.. "Who here can do a better job?" Hahaaa. Luc's starting to feel pretty good right about now. Swig.
Pyrene steps into the fray, eyes white-ringed and staring. "/He/ is not yours!" she hisses. "Keep away!" Somebody who should know better has stayed out in public too long it seems. The Weyrwoman's fists are clenched and she's stalking towards Tatia as if /she/ rode gold.
Sii'kyn is here. He's seething. He's feeling blood that is not his running in veins that are similarly not his, per se-- he abandons his quest to taunt Tatia into violence in favor of dragging Pyrene /away/ from Tatia, a sense of alarm playing across his forehead. Hey. If anyone's going to get a piece of Tat, it's gonna be /Ike/, not Pyrene. He swiftly moves, blocking Tatia from Pyrene bodily, jerking his head for his nice fellow bloodmates to help him. Groundweyrs, after all, are a much better location. Right?
Tatia starts at Pyrene's comment, and she's on her feet, hovering.. well, under, really, given her height.. Sii'kyn, fists clenched. To keep her temper under control, of course. Not to actually.. erm.. hit anyone. "You /might/ want to see to your /duty/?" she snaps with a pointed glance toward the obviously beyond-proddy gold. Fortunately, Ike's moving even as she's speaking, and so Tatia just stares after the pair, angrily, and pulls in several deep breaths with much effort.
R'meld chuckles under his breath, rather entertained by the yelling going back and forth. "They seem rather, I don't know, unorganized. Not a good dragonriding unit, in my opinion." Not that he could do much better, at least not without F'renkil's help. "Oh, she's starting to get broody." He stands straighter now and raises his hands to brush invisable dust specks from his riding leathers. "This would be a good time to remove her, don't you think?" R'meld comments, getting his voice to ring with an innocent tone. Is there a bit of mocking smugged in there as well? Perhaps.
Wyn is quietly up on her feet and edging closer to the the little knot of riders, leaving the flight-participants to deal with each other. The weyrsecond, riding a colour that leaves her blessedly free of hormones at the moment, has her sights on Tatia, and with a brief look at Sii'kyn and a nod, slips an arm through the greenrider's elbow and attempts to pull her away. "I -think-, my dear greenrider, you and I had better let the metallics play their games, and we can have a talk. I have brandy, yes?" And she's also moving to shift her grip into a firm arm-lock. Been there, done that, been punched by the Tsunamite before.
Lylia slinks up behind Tatia, a rather Druseth-like stealthiness to her movements. She growls again, deep in her throat, almost protectively standing by her former wingleader. "He /has/ no sense of duty," she says bitterly. Another dark look is tossed at Pyrene, but there's a dark, blood-driven lust behind it, a flicker of primal interest in her eyes. Rawr. But she's ready to move to the groundweyrs, to get /free/ of the living caverns.
L'uc downs the last of his ale and slams the mug onto the table top. Standing up a little too quickly, the 'rider sends his chair toppling over backwards. "Take the convo elsewhere, people.." A few steps are taken towards the group and.. is he staggering? Nah, just swaying a little. More ale, please! Let's get Luc stewed..
Pyrene exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.
Sii'kyn exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.
Lylia exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.
R'meld exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.
L'uc exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.
C'radoc exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.
Nyhia watches practically everyone else leave and wonders silently to herself what to do. She looks around at the only other people left in the living caverns and tilts her head slightly as she watches them.
Tatia allows herself to be led away, but she eyes Wyn with something less than friendliness. "Don't patronize me, Weyrsecond," she states bitterly. "I know where /your/ loyalties lie."
"I'm not patronizing you, Tatia." replies Wyn calmly, marching them both away and over to a suitable out of the way table. "I'm trying to keep you from getting yourself thrown out of the weyr entirely. As a -friend-. Sit." she order with a point of a finger and the offer of a large flask of brandy. "Unless you'd rather punch me, and get rid of a few frustrations that way. I could understand that, and I've set aside a good amount of arnica salve a friend made me."
Tatia sends a withering glance toward the groundweyrs. "You know who'd I'd rather punch," she answers, dropping heavily into a chair. "But contrary to why is apparently the popular belief, I am /not/ out to ruin this weyr by giving Cloudburst a written invitation to the Weyrleadership." IE: Aren't you proud? I controlled my temper!
Good greenrider! Have a biscuit. Wyn takes a sip of the brandy herself, before extending the flask a second time, allowing with infinite dryness that "I do indeed know... and it is, I confess, a sentiment I've felt myself, now and again." Settling into a relaxed posture, it seems that Tatia's going to be stuck with the ex-Mindhealer on her case until Wyn's satisfied she won't do anything rash, the younger woman nodding a little and assuring her that "I know, Tatia. I believe you on that. This whole incident's come about because of your concerns about Cloudburst's place in the Weyr, so it's ridiculous to think that you're suddenly siding with them."
Tatia's gaze on Wyn turns suddenly suspicious, and she nods warily. "Yes, but apparently concern and questions and demands for answers in this weyr are not welcomed," she answers bitterly. Nevermind that Wyn's weyrleadership.
"You're looking at part of the weyrleadership right now, Tatia," Wyn points out the obvious in an inoffensive tone, grey eyes settled on the other woman and watching her with a trace of concern. "You and Sii'kyn have always had a rough history, and the reports I got suggested that you weren't making a request of someone higher-ranking so much as ordering around a former weyrling of yours... I just wish I'd been there." she admits, looking very slightly pained.
"You're looking at part of the weyrleadership right now, Tatia," Wyn points out the obvious in an inoffensive tone, grey eyes settled on the other woman and watching her with a trace of concern. "You and Sii'kyn have always had a rough history, and the reports I got suggested that you weren't making a request of someone higher-ranking so much as ordering around a former weyrling of yours... I just wish I'd been there." she admits, looking very slightly pained. *re*
"We may have a rough history, but if the boy could do his job, you can sharding believe I'd never take it away for something as petty as a grudge!" Tatia counters angrily. "If he'd /act/ like someone with an ounce of sense, if he'd pay attention when I talk, acknowledge that I'm not.. wasn't.. a wingrider, but one of his /leaders/, who /ought/ to know what's going on, then I wouldn't have to resort to other ways of getting his attention! He's always spoken down to me, Wyn, since the moment he fell into that knot, and he's never even pretended to acknowledge the fact that I may very well be /good/ at my job."
Wyn simply nods along at Tatia, gaze intent as she leans forward a little, making sure that her body language is clearly stating that she's listening. "I won't deny that you have a point there, Tatia," she agrees. "But the fault of a thing very rarely lies solely on one side. Have you ever shown to him that -you- think he can be capable? Have you ever bitten your tongue and tried to show deference to his rank while in public? He is a person of passions and prides, much as you are, and the both of you make and hold grudges and nurse old wounds very easily. You are too much alike in some ways, I think," she admits, parting with a very slight twitch of her lips. "You are an extremely competant wingleader, Tatia, but part of working with a group of leaders is being able to work with them on a personal level. Someone may have all the skill in the world, but if there's a personality conflict that the two sides won't solve, or even acknowledge is on two sides..." Wyn shrugs.
"If I'd ever seen him prove he could be capable, I'd be happy to show I thought so," Tatia answers unreasonably before her eyes narrow again, filled with suspicion, and she stands abruptly. "What? You're saying he's /right/? So my decade of service to my wing is thrown away because a weyrleader.. who probably won't even last this flight, by the way.. can't work with me? Weyrleaders are a dime a dozen! How many have we have since I started leading Tsunami? And /I/ have never had a problem with a single one of /them/."
"Sit. DOWN. Tatia." orders Wyn in a tone very rarely heard from the quietly composed bluerider. If we're to draw a reference, Cordelia Vorkosigan's 'Ship Captain's Voice' would do nicely. To enforce her command, her hand reaches up and finds the other woman's forearm again, just below the elbow. More quietly, she continues that "I am saying that you are both right, and you are both wrong. This -can- be resolved, and frankly, for the good of the Weyr, I think it should be, but in order to do that, I need you to get down from your offended piller, no matter how much you are hurting at the moment, and think -rationally- for once. The both of you. Except that Sii'kyn isn't here now, or I'd be telling it to him too. He did not name me as weyrsecond because he wanted a yes-woman."
Trajan walks in from the Central Bowl.
Tatia refuses to sit, despite Wyn's grip on her arm. Rather like a pettishly stubborn child, at the moment. "I think I've earned at least a few days offended hurt, Wyn!" she declares. "If I want to wallow, I'll wallow. The last thing I need are.. are.. misguided opinionated /friends/ telling me I was to blame!" Believe it or not, she's not actually talking about Wyn at the moment. But yay for misunderstandings.
Wyn doesn't release the greenrider, but she does note that "Yes, you have earned them. But for Faranth's sake, take them in your weyr, or wait a couple more days for me to get the final findings together that, in my ex-Healer opinion, and having been consulting with some current weyrhealers, it's safe to lift the quarantine, and then take them on some pleasant island like South Point. You're entitled to feel hurt, but you're not helping me convince others that you're an asset when you're carrying on in public like this." she points out. "Not everyone has their head controlling their heart."
Tatia levels a look at Wyn. "I have to eat. It's certainly not my fault he approached me in the middle of the caverns.. in the middle of a /flight/.. and decided to start insulting me again. It's /certainly/ not my fault that he chooses to flaunt it in my face any time he can!" And now Tatia sits - or collapses, whatever. "Do you know what he did after demanding my knot, Wyn? /Do/ you?"
Trajan skuttles rather rapidly into the caverns...and straight on through, zipping into the kitchens....and back out again. Ahem. Yes. He's moving rather quickly. But he was after the sticky buns that were just starting to come out of the ovens. Quietly, the baker heads to find a place to sit, taking a peek in the direction of the riders almost wide-eyed. After all, who /doesn't/ know about the subject being discussed? Words are being whispered all over the weyr about it. He'll just try and make himself very..small.
Wyn lightens her grip as Tatia takes her seat again, the contact now more of a reassurance than a restraint. "Well, my reports tell me that he was an insensitive and unprofessional idiot who let his temper get the better of him, and turned a demotion that was his right as Weyrleader to grant into a gesture of cruelty." she replies quite calmly. No, Wyn is quite equal-opportunity in picking who gets to feel the sharp side of her tongue today. "As I said, the blame for this situation getting so out of hand is on both sides. Even if both sides also want to say it's completely the other side's fault."
"He handed me the knot.. my /own/ knot, Wyn, he handed it back to me and demanded I take it to K'nex. To /K'nex/. To my /weyrmate/ - with his congratulations." Tatia's hand comes down on the table, palm open. "That was just cruel. Don't get me wrong.. I love K'nex, and he's a wonderful second, but it seems very clear to me that Sii'kyn wanted to flaunt his power irresponsibly so he could get the better of an old grudge and get a wingleader without the backbone to ask the hard questions, all in one swipe."
"I don't disagree." assures Wyn, patting Tatia's arm lightly, before letting her hand fall in her lap again. "Asking you to deliver your knot to a replacement is bad enough, but when the replacement is your weyrmate... no, that was wrong of him." she states solemnly, taking another sip of her brandy and then passing it over. "But, I know Sii'kyn, and while his temper is sharp and can make him do very stupid things, it's also very impulsive. K'nex was likely just the first qualified person to come to mind, since Sii'kyn wouldn't want to replace Tsunami's wingleader with one of the Cloudburst riders or something foolish like that. And really, Tatia, I think we all know that we'd have to have you dropped between to keep you from asking hard questions... no matter what knot is on your shoulder."
Tatia shakes her head wearily. "You didn't see the look on his face. He knew exactly what he was asking, and he was doing it to be cruel," she maintains, though all other arguements seem have fallen by the wayside in favor of a Tat who simply looks tired
"I don't doubt that. He is, and always will be, Bitran-born." Wyn states gently. "And unfortunately, his heritage shows itself at times. I've been on the recieving end of it myself, if you can remember gossip that far back," she points out. Although perhaps the idea of N'sync and Wyn cavorting for a time has been blocked from the collective Weyr mind. "On the other hand, he isn't stupid, 'nor is he heartless. I'll be speaking with him." is promised, before news from Vorkoroth causes her eyes to disfocus, and a concerned look to settle on her features. "Oh dear..."
Tatia glances sharply at Wyn. "What?" she questions, head inclining toward the weyrsecond. Her own dragon's off doing.. something.. and not keeping the sharp tabs on weyr-goings-on that Vorkoroth likely is.
Trajan will just continue to eat his sticky bun. Quietly. And listen. He's not evesdropping! Honest! ...Though Wyn's sudden change in attitude prompts him to speak up, curiously peering towards the rider. Blinky. "Did something happen?" Hey, he's got a right to know too.
The nice thing about having a dragon who considers it his personal intelligence mission to know what the Weyr's up to is that Wyn's usually the first to know all the dirt. "The flight..." she replies absently, busy playing Illyan to her draconic Vorkosigan and mentally yelling for updates. "It's... complicated. But Ike's been knocked unconscious... Damn! I just hope the oldtimers are out too, somehow."
Ike + Knocked Unconscious = Distraught Trajan. The baker does go rather pale, snack completely forgotten. After all, it's hard to eat when your stomach lurches upward like that. Of course, he's out of his seat in the next instant, immediately darting out of the caverns.
Trajan exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.
V'der glides in from the Central Bowl.
Tatia blinks slowly, as if it's not really sinking in. "This," she finally begins, evenly, gaze fixed on Wyn, "Is /not/ my fault." Trajan is given a disgusted look from the corner of her eye, and you can just see her opinion written on her face.
"No, provably not..." murmurs Wyn, very absent indeed as she tries to get more information from Vorkoroth, and getting fairly blasted with it in the blue's excitement. "No.. wait, he wasn't knocked out... fainted. It's the dragons that collided. Vor, WHOSE?" Mechanically, she takes a swallow of brandy again, having now forgotten about the fact she was planning to feed it to Tatia. Trajan's exit goes unremarked on for the moment.
Tatia is watching Wyn curiously now, and her own mind is reaching out to prod Vespurath into attention, though she's lagging several moments behind. Still, one's dragon is the best way to get visuals of such things as colliding dragons. "No control at all," she murmurs.
Wyn jerks out of the reverie of the mindlink at news directed specifically to herself, and glances over at Tatia. "Sidramuntalath wants me to go to the infirmary and make sure Ike's all right. You... take it easy on yourself, yes?" And with a distracted pat to Tatia's shoulder in passing, away Wyn goes.
Tatia stares after Wyn bitterly, and with short, angry movements, collects her food and retreats home.
