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Harper's Tale 2 - Monday, September 30, 2002, 11:22 PM
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The Vor Imperium
Grey granite vaults upwards to form the high cathedral ceiling of the main part of the weyr, cool, solid and undecorated. Refracted light sparkles from the quartz veins streaking walls carved partially by the hand of man, partially the forces of volcanism. The standard large raised couch is located off to one side, sheltered from the winds of the short access tunnel. The wall across from it houses a massive 'hearth'. A braided rug, quartet of elderly 'chairs' and a wine-crate-turned-coffee-table stand in front of that, while pegs and shelving appear alongside. Near the back, the ceiling height drops rapidly, a demarcation between human areas and draconic. Heavy 'curtains' in a conservative pattern provide privacy to the 'inner weyr', drawn back partially to permit glimpses of the mystery within.
Masculine and feminine mix in an equal partnership of fine whiskey and subtle cologne, citrus and redwort, all against the cool backdrop of ancient stone.
On the ledge, you see a blue dragon.
Peering from a crevasse in the wall are two firelizards.
You see Grey Leather Satchel, Old Marble Chess Set, Lianta's Forest of Fangorn, Hearth, Curtains, Inner Weyr, and Chairs here.
Lianta is here.
Obvious exits:
Shadow'd Crevasse     Ledge

The sounds of a large amount of leather being hauled in by a not-so-large person precede Wyn's return to the weyr, echoing down the short tunnel linking ledge and cavern. The bluerider arrives presently, however, and plops herself and Vorkoroth's straps on the nearest chair with a relieved sigh. "Ahh..."

Lianta sits up from whatever work she was doing, knitting needles strewn across her lap. "H'lo Wyn! How's life with the loverly Vorkoroth?" A gentle smile punctuates her words as she folds up her knitting-ness. "Anything I can get you? We had a carafe of water kicking about here.."

Wyn laughs quietly, and stands to collect a tin of leather soap and some old rags, setting to work on cleaning the aforementioned straps with an anal attention to her routine. "Life is grand indeed. Although sweeps are tedious, High Reaches Hold /does/ offer some most excellent goodies to 'weary' riders." she reveals. "How about you? Jack's not been making a nuisance of herself, has she?"

"Oh, not in the slightest. " Lianta responds quickly to that. An animal /not/ love her? "She's actually been quite accomodating to this new change. It's not as though she's sleeping on my cot," Here a rueful glance directed towards said object notes the inherent messiness. "But if the biting fair ever leaves it alone, she might just. When's your next sweep, after today? Or next fall, for that matter."

"Hmph." Is Wyn's comment on Jack's behavior, wriggling the trailing end of one of the riding straps to attract said ginger beastie's attention. It's a somewhat pleased sounding 'hmph', though, and is soon followed by "I knew all along she'd be a perfectly acceptable pet, if given a chance. But my next sweep... is this time tomorrow. And the next Fall is scheduled for..." A quick glance over at the Threadfall charts pinned to one wall. "Two days hence, at dawn. Mmm, a dawn Fall. Those are always challenging to some."

Lianta's normally cheery grin slumps into a worried frown. "But is Fyria still flying fall? I have no idea how far along she is, as I haven't really caught up with her." Shrug. Weyrlife happens. "There's been no trouble with anything, I mean, the change in having me around. At least, I haven't gotten my arms ripped off by an angry feline... yet."

"Hmmm... if she's in her second trimester still, she'll be flying with the Queen's Wing," offers Wyn, after a thoughtful pause and more scrubbing of the riding straps. "But I'd not worry about her putting the baby or herself in any trouble. She /is/ weyrmated to the Weyrhealer, after all," she bluerider recounts, a little twinkle in her eyes. "But I'm glad to hear there's been no trouble. N'sync's not been tempted to drop by? If he does, please throw him off the ledge if you care to."

Lianta merely sits up and gives Wyn 'the look'. "Whyever would I see N'sync? Would he come and try to apologize for.. whatever he did?" Her arched eyebrow indicates that her curiosity's not quite sated, but it's easier to let it be. "And Morallen hasn't heard anything from me, if you're worried on that account."

Wyn shrugs slightly, and polishes away a sweat stain with perhaps just a /trifle/ more force than necessary. "I am hardly one to guess at the motivations of that particular brownrider, so he might or he might not." she pronounces. And says nothing more, twitching the leather again, and prompting a flurry of mad joyous pouncing and scrabbling from Jack.

Lianta busies herself by making her cot up, running her hands about it's smooth sheets. Finally, the awkward silence is broken by her whisper, "Wyn, I'm sorry for whatever happen. Is it big enough to take to a wingleader, or even the weyrleaders?" In the back of her mind, the possibility of just letting Sii'kyn and Sidramuntalath have at does occur to her, but is pushed aside in favor of less direct approach. "I can assure you that he wouldn't get very far with me. I might even let Jack attack him." Cough. "Not like she would, or anything."

Something very like an exasperated sigh escapes Wyn then, and she scrubs at the leather more thoroughly still. "Gah." she intones, the word really being one that could benefit from being stretched, but Wyn-diction not permitting that to happen. "No, no, no, that's the whole point. It's not a large matter, it wouldn't /be/ a large matter, if I could just be allowed to ignore N'sync in peace, and if the randy git would just accept that I don't like him."

"Oh. Well, in that case, why don't you just hit him?" Never let it be said that Lianta was never very blunt. "Wait. He might like that. Scrap that idea." Then the twinkle of though occurs. Feeear. " Whatever does Vorkoroth think about the matter, dear? It seems to me that you might have a very good ally there."

Wyn laughs a little at that. "Vorkoroth," she notes. "/Always/ disapproves of who I sleep with. None of them are good enough for me, after all," A fond glance is directed towards the tunnel and the ledge beyond, where a vehement snort can be heard. Exactly! "So you see, he's been in favour of castrating many people, not just N'sync. Really... All I want from him is to realize that it's... unethical... to take advantage of someone in a weak emotional state. But ethics, alas, may be beyond him."

Lianta blinks at this pronouncement. "Is Backstreeth of the same feelings? Perhaps a little heavy leaning in that direction wouldn't hurt." Evil thoughts are herded into a dark corner of the mind, to be let out at a future date. A/hem/. Back on track now, "So what you're saying is, you'd like an apology, and maybe a little change in manners? That shouldn't be too hard. And I highly agree, Vorkoroth. Castration /would/ solve a good many problems."

Wyn finishes cleaning the straps and hangs them on their designated pegs beside the hearth, returning soap and cloths as well before retaking her seat, and pulling Jack onto her lap. The ginger feline alternates purrs and growls as her mistress shrugs again. "In theory, no. However, N'sync feels that he did nothing wrong, and that I'm the one who owes him an apology."

Lianta takes a seat on the newly made cot. "Well, isn't that just cute." A rarely-heard bitter tone colors her voice. "Ike and Ram do have the right idea. Physical violence, even if it's for the satisfaction of punishment. Or, we could send him to Telgar for a half-Turn or two. Exile is not forbidden." With a shake of her head she snaps out of it. "Maybe after this, he'll leave you alone. So many other people know what's going on, and perhaps the pressure might become too much. Besides, he's not your wingleader, right?"

"Lianta," Wyn's tone, dead-level calm as usual, somehow shifts to become more level and even still. "I don't wish it to go that far. I don't wish to make an incident of this, I really /don't/... I've never told anyone at 'Reaches this, but there was a similar incident to this when I was back home in Benden, at fifteen. The fallout from that... is something I'd rather not go through again."

Lianta hauls herself out of strangely-vindictiveness at this point. "Mmmm? I take it this is not news, or not so much something brand new." Now standing, she crosses to behind Wyn and puts her hands down behind Wyn's chair. "Backrub? This seems to be weighing on you quite a bit." Heh. No kidding. "Here's hoping you won't have to make a incident of it."

Wyn-Who-Is-Not-To-Be-Touched looks slightly nonplussed at the idea of a backrub. But a moment's thought, and a mental prodding from Vorkoroth induces a nod. "A backrub...? That would... actually be quite kind of you. Thank you." She doffs her heavy flight jacket, before shaking her head slowly. "/I/ don't need to make an incident of it at all. It seems that everyone else wants to, though. Which... troubles me. Morallen was exiled from Benden Weyr for doing what Sii'kyn is thinking of."

Lianta hmms thoughtfully. And gets on with Wyn's backrub. "Circumstances might be different. How old was Morallen at the time? And was he a dragonrider? I think this'd be a thing between dragonriders... and somehow different. Trajan seems undelighted with the idea however." Gentle fingers work around tense shoulder blades, probing out and unwinding knots of stress that seem to have gathered. "Perhaps it's best to lie low for two days. Plead fatigue, and spend the time with Vorkoroth. You might be all the better for it."

Wyn looks in danger of starting to purr as the knots are removed. She's fairly good at massage herself... but that doesn't help /her/ any. Still, her normally serene face still remains distant and faintly troubled, as if she's working through some internal dialogue. A decision is reached after a time, however, and she tilts her head to get a glance of Lianta, trying to decide something. "Lianta... you're my friend, and you're also fairly level-headed. If I... told you the situation, and past situation in confidence, do you think you could advise me?" A wry little look. "Ordinarily, I'd go see my old mentor."

Lianta peers down at Wyn. "But of course! Something /is/ seriously wrong with your head if you can't trust your roommate." Giggle. "Is it anything more than this N'sync trouble?" The question is asked placidly, as the movement of her hands changes to a gentle patting. "There is the not inconsequential fact that I got to Stand with you, which neither you or the rest will ever let me forget."

Wyn shakes her head, suddenly looking amused again. "Well, there are many things wrong with my head, but a lack of trust isn't one of them. I'm simply curious exactly as to whether I /am/ blaming N'sync too much. After all, it is not his fault he's somewhat similar to someone from my past. So you tell me if I'm overreacting, no?"

Lianta's eyebrow quirks about a mile a minute while she thinks. "Well, yes and no. He /is/ being a sharding numbskull about the whole thing. Which is not good. On the other hand", puntuating this with an upheld finger, signifying caution, "You've had a similar situation, which would make you more cautious and at the same time, more wary. Obviously, something isn't working, but overreaction isn't one of them." A small pause between thoughts, as if for emphasis, or she's not sure how to say the next part. "But there is probably equal blame to go around. I hadn't heard any stories in Ista, but from the way you tell it, it doesn't seem like it's something new."

Wyn snugs a scatter pillow to her chest in lieu of Jack, who's gone and skittered off to tease Vorkoroth, nodding soberly at her friends' analysis, and already looking like she's planning to drift off in thought as soon as possible. "Yes... your reading lines up fairly closely to mine," she agrees, unsnugging the pillow and examining it a moment, before squashing it again. "And I'm trying to figure out what I'm at fault for, and how to go about rectifying it. But... thank you for letting me clear my head, Lia. You're one of the few of my friends I can do that with." The words, typical for Wyn, are a touch over-formal, but the meaning and warmth in them can be seen in her eyes.

Lianta gives Wyn a final friendly pat. "I thought you might be able to sort things out. Somehow. Although, I do have to admit, having Sii'kyn around ready for blood could slightly give one a boost in the self-esteem department." Her light-hearted tone does contrast directly with Wyn's more sobered approach, but the rapport seems oddly familiar. " If it's alright with you, I'm going to head down to the living caverns for a bit of weyr gossip and wine." As she stumbles out, she pokes her head around one last time. "And don't worry. Eventually, things will work out. Until then, I'm here if you need to talk."