Chit-Chat

• Who: Baina, Esseira, Felisa, S'dric
  
• What: Random discussion in the bowl. Coverage includes Hrotti, the trial, succession, and a subtle hint that girls may be able to stand for all clutches under Esse and S'dric. This is a followup to this log.
  
• Where: Benden Weyr's Northern Bowl
  
• When: Probably, but not 100% certainly, on day 25, month 10, turn 2.
  
  
  Wendra climbs up between Dulcieth's neckridges.
  
  Dulcieth springs into the sky.
  
  Offering a smaller, slightly stiffer bow to the exiting Wendra, Baina calls a soft "Clear skies," to the departing rider, obviously well pleased with her magnanimous attention. Yeah...
  
  Felisa wanders in, humming (in-tune, even), and all and all appearing very, very happy. She not only nods to those present but also says a cheerful "Hello!"
  
  High towards the rim, Ailuth comes into view, ducking down in a slow spiral downwards before settling in a slightly less than graceful landing nearby the group. The gold crouches, letting Esseira drop to the ground quickly before the dragon stands again, stretching her arms. "Afternoon Baina, Felisa, S'dric," She says, offering the three a warm smile. "Doing well, I hope?"
  
  Saluting the departing riders, S'dric's eyes lift to the sky and he catches that splash of gold up there and smiles. "I'm sure your good will be returned in due course," he assures Baina about the journal then steps a little towards Esseira as she approaches, holds an arm out towards her. "Weyrwoman. It's a good day," he tells her, amusement rich in his voice for some reason.
  
  Part of that reason just might be Miss Baina, who very helpfully demonstrates /why/ when she drops into another low curtsy, though this time she does /not/ lower her head nor her eyes. Instead, she lifts her chin just a little and meets Esseira's gaze without so much as a flicker. "Good afternoon, Weyrwoman," she offers primly.
  
  Felisa beams at Esseira. "Wonderful day" she agrees. "How are you and Ailuth doing? I've missed being around the Weyr these past few months." Now that she's agreed with S'dric she adds "Congratulations, Weyrleader. I was so happy to hear Gedreth won the flight." She appears somewhat bemused by her peer's curtsey, but doesn't comment on it. "I hope you're well, Baina."
  
  The goldrider's brow quirks slightly at S'dric's voice, "Weyrleader," she nods, taking a few steps closer, just to the edge of the arm S'dric holds out towards her, almost hesitant. Baina's curtsy brings a light shade of color to her cheeks, embarassed. "Afternoon Baina. Really, you don't have to curtsy. I'd actually almost rather you didn't," She admits, grinning a bit awkwardly. To Felisa: "We're well, thanks. Getting settled back in the Weyr again, after being at the trial, then?"
  
  S'dric only smiles all the more widely at the goldrider and moves to slide his arm around her waist. "Baina's got exemplary manners, actually," he says lightly, "I'm very impressed." There's a little nod towards Felisa. "Thank you kindly, Felisa. I can't say I'm complaining about the job any."
  
  And doesn't that praise just make her /glow/? Well. About as much as a pale, peaky-looking pointy-faced girl /can/ glow anyway. "It's Manners, ma'am," Baina offers with a look of shock. "It would be rude to excess if I weren't to follow the protocols..." She seems genuinely distressed at the prospect. Thankfully Felisa provides a distraction. "I am, and yourself, Felisa?"
  
  Felisa nods to Esseira and elaborates for Baina, "Quite well. I'm still too happy and relieved from the trial to be impatient about who Hrotti's" no 'lord' here "Successor is named or what compensation he or Hrotti will have to pay out." As if suddenly remembering something, she says "You maybe shouldn't stay outside in this weather. I remember how easily you got sick back home."
  
  A flicker of confusion sparks in Esseira's eye for a brief moment before her eyes are warm again, her form leaning back ever so slightly against S'dric's arm around her waist. "Mmm, I just can't help it. It's odd to have people curtsying to me--though that beside, they are exemplary manners, Baina," she assures the seamstress, biting her lip at Baina's response. "Hopefully it won't be too much longer, no. Get this whole ordeal done and over with."
  
  S'dric tightens his arm lightly around Esseira. "Well at least Hrotti's dealt with," he points out. "Now it's just a matter of seeing who will step up in his stead and ensuring that the Weyr gets its due and restitution is made to those who suffered at the former Lord's hands," the Weyrleader says softly.
  
  A bit perturbed by the lack of title flying about, Baina shifts from foot to foot, pulling her shawl a bit tighter around her shoulders. "I suppose it doesn't matter, now that Lord Hrotti is gone." Ever so slight an emphasis on that title, there. "I agree with Felisa, Weyrleader," she offers tentatively, hesitant to present an argument to him. Eyes and face lowered this time. "The people of the Distant holdings can hold their own--" No pun intended. "Without any..,/handouts/ from the former Lord's successor." A pause then. Her manner is demure to a comic degree, but in this, her words are fierce. "Or anyone else for that matter." There, said her piece. "No, Felisa. I'm fine thank you." Only the tip of her nose is turning pink, seemingly just to give lie to her statement.
  
  Felisa says, "Oh, I'm all for compensation, and for getting the holders out of the valley and on some real land. I also hope that certain people get compensated so they stop demanding, or at least implying, that the Weyr shold compensate them for Hrotti's negligence. And he's no longer a Lord, Baina. He was stripped of title and holding at the trial."
  
  "I kinda feel as though, whether they /need/ it or not, the holders deserve a restitution for the betrayal of their Lord. Even as the Weyr does." Her gaze rests on Baina, thoughtful for a few moments, before nodding as she looks to Felisa, and back to Baina. "And should've lost rights to that title long before, for that matter," Esseira appends to Felisa's commment.
  
  "As Felisa says, Baina, Hrotti's been stripped of his title and rank. He's just an ordinary Bendenite now. Just like the people he abused," S'dric says gently, arm still slung around Esseira's waist. "And new land for the holds is a very good idea I think for any successor to consider. After all, it's impossible to return to the actual Distants, but re-settlement within Benden would be ideal I think."
  
  "But....but... He's still /Blooded/," Baina protests. "And my great uncle Pollemy is dead and so not using his title, but he's still referred to as Lord." Blood is the only thing you can't take from a person, or so Baina's thinking apparently runs... "And what's wrong with the land we had? My family made a very good hold on that land, I'll have you know." In anger and pride, the child comes forwards. How interesting.
  
  Felisa says mildly "The problem with the land, and the reason everyone is in the valley, is that it's not under Weyr coverage. The charters were granted when it was an Interval and people didn't think Weyr coverage was important any more. Distant Song Hold probably isn't even standing any more." She sighs and shakes her head, then adds "Your uncle died -- dying doesn't strip titles -- peers do, however, and he was judged by his blooded peers to be inadequate."
  
  "Mm, he's dishonored his Blood and his title, though," Esseira murmurs, gaze flickering between the two girls, thoughtful. When she speaks again, her voice seeks to catch both of their attentions--though without being too obvious. "So if the refugees were to be given new lands, would the two of you join them, or staying here at the Weyr, I wonder?" Subject change, what? Not Esse!
  
  S'dric nods agreement with what's been said. "Being stripped is entirely different from passing away with title intact. The Lords have rendered Hrotti Bloodless and Holdless," the Weyrleader says in that same quiet, calm tone. "And Felisa's right about the land as well. It's too far out for an understrength Benden to cover. If we should be so fortunate as to have a gold in the clutch Ailuth will lay and there's another after that, and many dragons, we might be able to look at extending that boundary."
  
  "So...someday my family's land will be acceptable for holding?" This, for some reason, seems rather very important to young Baina. Esseira's attempt is not unnoticed, but aside from a narrowed gaze, she draws no attention to it. "My uncles and their families would leave. I would be left here at the Weyr." A simple explanation, but hopefully enough to satisfy. "I...suppose..." About Lo--Hrotti, but even that concession sounds doubtful.
  
  Felisa says, "It would be a very long time, and maybe by then I'd be aged out of standing. Until then, at least, I want to stay at the Weyr, so long as the Weyrleaders are willing. Even if I do age out I think I can make myself useful enough around here to stay, and I like being around a lot of people, not just my family. Besides, Karina and I might kill each other if I went home."
  
  "If the Weyr increases its numbers, in a while I don't see why the possibility wouldn't be there. And hopefully Ailuth'll help us get closer to that chance with her clutch." So much for Baina totally taking the bait! "They'd leave you here at the Weyr?" Esseira prompts quizzically, before her gaze turns to Felisa, winking. "You're pretty quick to find some way to make yourself useful, so I doubt you'd have any sort of problem."
  
  S'dric smiles at both Felisa and Baina. "Here's hoping that one day, yes," he notes. "And I'm sure there'll always be a place for you here, Felisa, regardless of what happens on the Sands." The Weyrleader leans in to drop a kiss onto Esseira's cheek. "I need to go get cleaned up ladies, if you'll excuse me please." And with that the Weyrleader's off.
  
  Baina eyes Felisa out of the corner of her eye. "We'll both be here then." More of a quiet observation than any attempt at conversation. Esseira's question catches her attention and she narrows her eyes, lifting her chin. "I am not old enough to inherit the Holding, so it will be passed down to my eldest Uncle. I am..." A threat? A muisamce? A burden? "Better served by staying here with Aunt Gemma and learning to be a seamstress." S'dric's departure gets a bobbed curtsy and a genteel sort of wave, but he's out of range too soon for vocal pleasantries and Baini Must Not Yell.
  
  Felisa nods. "And her health is fragile, so it's perhaps better that she's here, where there are Healers all the time. We shared a circuit Healer at the Distants, and it's just sheer luck she never got really ill when he wasn't at Song. And who knows, maybe someone can find a cure, or at least a way to bolster her defenses."
  
  Esseira turns to watch S'dric's departure for a few moments, gaze indiscernable. Turning back, she crosses her arms, her fingers idly tugging at the end of her braid. "Aha. Well, you're more than welcome to stay--you both are, aye." A mischievous grin and a wink--"After all, I'm sure there'll be a number of clutches you both have the chance to stand for...Especially since I imagine you won't have to worry about whether there's a gold egg." Brow quirking, Esseira's head tilts, worried, "Do you get sick often?"
  
  Offering a very childish glare to Felisa for 'outing' her--and to the Weyrwoman, no less!--Baina straightens her spine and lifts her chin before nodding once, sharply. "I am, ma'am. My grandmother thought it hereditary, since my mother suffered as well until she died." Though the rest of the Distants recognized Melli's heartache for what it was, Gran Dania just...didn't. So, by default, neither did--or does--Baina. "It is nothing, now that I am old enough to care for myself, ma'am." She pulls her shawl tighter around her shoulders, then, looking distinctly uncomfortable with this turn of conversation. "I...I don't know if I /should/ Stand, ma'am."
  
  Felisa trembles the tremble of someone trying her hardest not to jump up and down. "Oh, I was so hoping that would be the case. So many more chances now..." She trails off, looking at Baina. "Standing is a lot of fun, though. You get to meet so many people, and learn lots of stuff. Though I suppose you can learn just fromhaving candidates around, and not having to be one."
  
  "Something when you were younger then? S'good to hear you've been getting better," Esseira remarks sincerely, offering Baina a warm smile as the seamstress tightens her shawl. Troubled, "If you /should/ stand? Because of that or...?" Felisa's words spur another grin from Esseira, "Mmm, I think there will be, aye. Or /should/ be. Just keep that as our little secret for the moment... 'Tween us three girls, yanno?"
  
  "Yes, ma'am. That." There's a moment's pause as Baina rethinks her words. "Well, mostly that... Partly that." Looking sidelong at Felisa as if she'd lost her mind, the Holder girl shakes her head. "I just don't know what I'd do if I Impressed a green or..." She gulps. "A brown. Geneve'd /kill/ me... It'd be just /awful/." Her voice continues to get quieter as she talks. "So if they're going to be running after girls now, I'd best stay out of it ma'am." She pauses, her childhood friend's joy a bit contagious. "It does /sound/ nice though."
  
  Felisa blinks. "Why would Geneve kill you? And what's so bad about impressing greens? They're pretty and small, and vital to fighting wings. I'd be so happy if I could just impress at all; I wouldn't care about the color."
  
  "Maybe. Or she might be thrilled there's another female brownrider." There's a long thoughtful pause, the Weyrwoman's gaze flickering back to Ailuth before returning to the two girls. "...If you think it'd be best not to stand, maybe it's not. But at the same time, if you would've stood for 'just' gold, there's always the chance you would impress a fighting color /anyways/." A shrug, and then she grins at Felisa. "You'd be a good rider--on any color. I'm going to have to leave you two to it, though. Ailuth's needing oiling again. She /is/ growing a bit, girthwise, after all. Have a good night, both of you." A nod to both of them, and Esseira heads back over to Ailuth, mounting the gold before she takes off, making the short glide to her ledge.
  
  "Which is why I don't think I should Stand," Baina explains quietly, pulling her shrawl even tighter. The Weyrwoman's abrupt exit earns her an awkwardly bobbed-curtsey--hard to do with one hand after all--and a heavy sigh. "I'm just not a fighter..." Turning to Felisa then, she suppresses a shiver and gestures towards the caverns. "Indoors then, shall we? It's getting frightfully cold out."
  
  Felisa nods agreeably, though she doesn't seem as effected by the cold.