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 Monday 5 January 2004 for the benefit of members unable to attend. Logged by Tatia.
Take Out the Leader First
Living Caverns
The rough-hewn majesty of this cavern far outpaces any delight in the
multitudes of curves that form its enclosure. The glabrous grey granite
is shot through with translucent obsidian, lending subtly-veined sparkle
to the walls and the foot-trodden smoothness of the floor that shows
centuries-old placements of the scarred trestle tables; carven hollows
give homes for the glow baskets and the coat-pegs that line the walls.
No mosaics, no painting, no tiles: just a few well-done tapestries mark
the pathway that lead to the kitchen to the north and the inner caverns
to the west, and frame the nighthearth's stew and snacks, while a
heavier strip of oiled canvas shields the unwary from the wind in the
bowl.
Scattered about in various perches and niches are forty-seven
firelizards.
You see Llaammaa, Thief, and Wild Feline Scoreboard here.
Sii'kyn is here.
Obvious exits:
Bowl Kitchens Inner Caverns Crafting Area Hearth
Sii'kyn is here. Brooding. Why? Because he's good at that brooding thing. The browner is gazing out into absolutely nothing, feet kicked up on a table, leaning his chair back on two legs-- classic Ike pose. Klahsip, klahsip- indeed, that's what he thinks the rest of the night's gonna go like. Klah sipping, maybe a dragon-oiling, a warm bed. He has -plans-. Klah, oil, bed. Makes sense.
Tatia has plans, too. Oh yes she does. She stalks into the 'Caverns on a mission, sweeping her scarf loose as she does so. Spying Ike, she gives a grimly determined smile and weaves across the room to plant herself in a chair opposite him. "Sii'kyn. Enjoying your break?"
Sii'kyn has a Sense of Impending Doom(tm) as he glances up, grey eyes assessing Tatia with automatic defences rising. "I'm enjoying my evening, indeed. I do hope yours is going as well as mine, wingleader?" Tact? /Ike/? Impossible. Maybe it's just veiled sarcasm. [Which it is, obviously.]
Funny how Tatia + Ike = Defensiveness on one side or the other, inevitably. "Well," Tatia begins conversationally. "It would be, really, if I were, y'know.. allowed to leave the weyr, or had any clue what was going on, or had an answer to give my wingriders when they ask me. But I don't, so apparently I ought to kick back and relax and avoid my duty like the /rest/ of the leadership at this weyr." And.. she's not holding back tonight, is she?
Sii'kyn coolly eyes Tatia. Detatchedly. "Even though it -is- you I'm talking to, I'd hope you realize that Pyrene and myself have a reason for what we do. The quarantine will stand, and you and your wingriders will have to trust us." Both eyebrows quirk in a semi-challenging way, and Ike continues with his kicked-back stance. Yeah. He's not letting her get to him.. er.. yet.
Tatia's infamous heated temper rises as Sii'kyn speaks. "Even though it /is/ you, I'd rather hoped I might get something resembling a straight answer out of you. I'm not sure weyrling, wet behind the ears, Sii'kyn. I think the weyr has a pretty good right to be kept appraised of the situation, to know what's going on.. and your wingleaders even more so!"
"Trust, Tatia." Ike's voice is clipped. "And although you -claim- to not be 'wet behind the ears', all you're doing is acting like a green, rank rider." She /is/ a greenrider of rank, Ike. Coughsniggersnort. "What we do is for the benefit of Pern. And if you're not observant enough to figure out /why/ we have a quarantine, then..." He trails off, obviously reining himself in, though that telltale temper is beginning to flag upwards.
Tatia rolls her eyes upward and drags in a slow, deep breath. "I'm not /talking/ about the quarentine, /Sii'kyn/," she states, dragging his name out insultingly. "I'm talking about the rest of it. Sure, the quarentine is excessively lengthy, but it's the fact that Adel's still parading around with that knot of her shoulder, that no one's been told whether they're staying or going, and where, if they are, and what's to be done with them, if they're staying... You talk about trust, but you don't bother to trust your own leadership or your own wingriders!"
Sii'kyn tightens like a bowstring at the statement of Adel prancing about with a knot that shouldn't be hers. Soft spot? Yeah. It's very obvious Ike's against that, as he tips back and then forwards, his chair landing on all-fours with an ominous wobble. "Tatia. If we wanted your opinion, we would have asked. You do not need to butt your nose into affairs that haven't been settled long enough to sort out." A tinge of warning touches his clipped tones, grey eyes appropriately stormy.
"Butt my.. settled long enough.. Sii'kyn, stop being an ignorant wherry!" Tatia exploads. "We've been sitting under quarentine for sevendays now! And apparently you /aren't/ going to ask.. you're going to sit around and pretend that it's not affecting the weyr /you're/ supposed to be leading! Or did you forget that that's part of your job? Yeah, it's a big headache! Yeah, it's a complicated mess! A /smart/ weyrleader might turn to his leadership for help with that! He might talk to his weyr! He certainly wouldn't sit around doing /nothing/." Her hands rise, and then fall clenched to her sides. "I'm a wingleader, Sii'kyn, with more turns of leadership than you have. /Asking/ my opinion might have been a smart move."
Sii'kyn snaps. He rises to his feet with apparent unconciousness, a foreboding look thundering across his face as lightning hits an aged oak-- his face burns red for a bare moment before he grates out, fury underlining every syllable, "Tatia, perhaps you forget your place. Faranth knows you've done it time and time before, so what's one more time, hmm?" Mocking doesn't take over, however; "-- and for your information, I /have/ turned to my leadership for help. You were not invited because of the attitude and blatant disrespect that you're so flaunting right now. I warn you now, wingleader, to never address me like that again, so long as I hold this knot on my shoulder." C'mon. Press him /one more time/, Tat. Dare ya. [His expression sure does.]
"Forget my /place?/ /My/ place?" Tatia retorts, taking the dare and running a mile with it. "I /earned/ my place, /weyrleader/, and I've performed well in it for more turns than you've been 'riding! I know quite well that both Wyn and Pyrene can work with me, so even if /you're/ too nearsighted to see it, you could very well have asked them! For that matter, you could keep us /updated/ about what it /is/ that you're doing." She steps back, face twisted with disgust. "I'll address you with the respect your knot deserves when /you/ start deserving it. So long as you continue to act like a newly-impressed weyrling, I'll sharding speak to you like one. It seems it's the only way to get anything accomplished around here - and /my/ wing isn't going to suffer for /your/ mistakes."
Sii'kyn quietly stares at Tatia. The vein that shows up across his forehead might be an indication of how much sheer, unadultered rage he's feeling right now-- the muscle twitching next to it could be another sign, but, hey, Tat's not worried about that, right? She should have been, however, as there's a crowd forming in a vague fashion, watching the verbal duel. And Ike plays dirty- well, he's always fought dirty. He's Bitranblooded, for Faranthsake. "You know, you're right, in a way," he states with deceptive mildness in his tone. "One's knot should reflect upon the amount that you deserve, and it should be equal to what you -do- deserve." A tightlipped grim smile, and he extends a hand. And then? The immortal line, that he's been wanting to say since she decked him waaaay back when. For the first time. "Your knot, please, /wingrider Tatia/."
Tatia stares blankly at Sii'kyn, and all that heated color drains from her face in a matter of seconds. He can't do that.. /can/ he? Tatia earned her knot, and Sii'kyn's.. a lucky flight, and he rules the /weyr/? What kind of logic does /that/ make? Her hand rises to hover over her knot. "You can't be /serious/."
Sii'kyn can do that. Will do that. His stance remains firm, and his careful mask of nonexpression - save a vein and a muscle - is like rock. "Oh, I can be." He grits this out. "Your /knot/, please. Do not make me request it of you again." He's not normally one to pull off ominous, but... Flippin' Faranth, at two miles one would know he's /furious/.
Tatia's expression hardens, and with a short movement, she yanks her knot off to throw it at Sii'kyn's feet. "I always knew you were an idiot," she spits toward him, "But apparently even I underestimated how deep the stupidity ran."
"I now know I have been stupid for the past few turns. You've made that abundantly clear." Ooooh, what's he implying? What else, man? Sii'kyn leans down gracefully and fetches the knot, and has one of those moments of clear thought that come so rarely-- a moment that's perfect in everything, as something dawns on him. "Would you do me one last honor, Tatia?" His smile is more than tinged with a streak of revenge, as he ennunciates clearly, "Pass on my congratulations- and knot- to Wingleader K'nex." And he offers the knot back to her... to give to someone else. Oooooooh, /burn/.
Tatia gives Sii'kyn a withering glare - and she's spent enough turns perfecting it that it's a sight to see - and lifts her chin. "Give it to him yourself, /weyrleader,/" she spits. "And have fun finding a new second while you're at it." With that, she turns and stalks away, and the anger is nearly visible in heat waves coming off her body.
