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 Posted: Wed Dec 10, 2014 9:29 pm
It had been a long couple of weeks. Shylla had much to answer for in the eyes of the Pernese aristocracy, and with each passing day the letters continued to arrive by hand or by flit. Some called for her resignation, others offered support, but as Weyrmistress it was her duty to answer each beck and call, and it was thankless work on the better days. She'd yet to address the members of her own weyr, outside the inner circle, and the remaining Sofianes were restless as ever, but with everyone from the outside world pestering for a little peek in it was hard to find even a moment's chance to breathe.
As achy as the weyrmistress felt, her little squire was exuberant in his duties, hopping about at any chance to be the world's tiniest courier without wings. He'd taken to wearing a sash when on 'official mail business', and after about the third day, Shylla had seen to it that the small article was embroidered with spun gold and High Reaches blue, to make things more official. She'd never seen the boy more delighted since he'd begun to squire.
But for all his seemingly tireless efforts, the child of twelve was still only human, and two weeks in to the work of smoothing over tensions Shylla found him sleeping late one afternoon, curled upon a nest of letters and cooing softly as he snored. Shylla couldn't blame the boy, for how hard he'd been working, and she watched him for a moment with an achingly sympathetic glance. Perhaps she should take all of her letters and have them quilted, she thought, and then she too could sleep on the words of the hateful. Sleeping at all seemed luxurious enough. But the idea would have to be shelved for another time. For now, her little squire needed rest.
The boy was light, and the candidate barracks not too far from her weyr, a convenient perk of moving to the lowest cavern joined to the Hatching Sands. Scooped up in her arms, the boy seemed even smaller and more gangly, his limbs spilling over her soft tan arms. Having to be carried to bed by your squiremaster was a dangerously embarassing occurrence, but by Shylla's understanding of the schedule the candidates should have all been out training with their riders, offering her a brief window of time to leave her squire in peace. She slipped into the barracks without much resistance, resting the child in his bunk with a wordless smile. It was warm for blankets of any kind, but she at least removed his sash and folded it neatly in his trunk for safekeeping. Shylla lingered for but a moment longer, pondering her chances of getting away with napping in a spare bunk for a few minutes, but decided that the risks were greater than the rewards.
Damn. Back to letters, then.
She had just entered the common area when she heard shuffling from the outside door, noting that someone was back from class already. After the initial shot of panic that ran through her gut whenever one of her childhood schemes had been found out, Shylla reminded herself that she was Weyrmistress, that she was technically allowed to go where she please, and she was not going to let herself be startled by a single candidate. Certainly not. Never ever.
By the time the door swung inwards, Shylla had mostly composed herself, pretending to be engrossed in the posted roster of duties hanging on the wall. At the sound of the hinge's creak, she tilted her head towards the door, her amber eyes inquisitive and vibrant, if a bit tired-looking. She straightened her posture as much as she could for her stocky height, trying to look every bit as graceful and poised Venk had been. Hopefully the candidate would notice her knots of rank first and not the bags under her eyes.
"Good afternoon, candidate," she began, focusing on keeping her tone warm and not tense. "How were lessons?"
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Posted: Wed Dec 10, 2014 9:58 pm
The tables in the common room of the candidates' barracks were quite decent in size. One of them, however, seemed to be buried under a large number of books and papers. Some of the tomes were open, some were stacked in piles, and there were even a few that were askew after falling off to the floor. Bits of parchment also littered the table, covering the leftover space that the books did not. Notes with diagrams, key terms, important dates and other useful bits of information were all etched on the papers in small, neat penmanship. It wasn't elegant or fancy handwriting, but rather simple, practical, and easy to read.
Qyprenna, the candidate who all these notes had belonged to, was seated in a chair at the table. She had been pouring over everything the second she had some spare time, allowing herself to get in a bit of extra study time. This was an attempt on her part to remember as much of her lessons as possible, in hopes to then use the information later on. For what, exactly, she had no idea, but it was better to be more prepared than less for events or questions that might pop up throughout her daily routine. Her head had been propped up by her hand, and her elbow rested upon the table as she gazed down at the different materials. The young woman would have kept reading, her gaze and attention honed in and focused, if not for the voice she heard behind her.
"How were the lessons?"
This question enough was to snap Qyp out of her trance. She felt her heart quicken slightly, thumping in her chest. Frankly, she was surprised she didn't jump out of her chair. Such introductions always seemed to startle her, but surprisingly the candidate managed to keep her composure this time. Upon snapping out of her studying, Qyp's eyes turned and fell upon the woman who addressed her, but it wasn't just any woman. It was the Weyrmistress, Shylla, whom she didn't know personally, but had seen around the Weyr from time to time. Not wanting to be rude, she found herself pushing herself up and out of her seat, in order to stand properly to address the woman who had asked her a question.
"Quite good, ma'am," she told her, bowing her head to show her respect, "I'm just going over my notes."
It was as she said this that Qyprenna couldn't help but notice something. Shylla, frankly, looked exhausted. There was no way she was about to ask the reason why, but it was obvious by the Weyrmistress' demeanor and the circles under her eyes, as much as she may have tried to hide them. If it was one thing Qyp was good at, it was picking up subtle things like that. The candidate then allowed her eyes to travel back over to her papers and her books for a moment or two, and then back to Shylla before she continued on. "How are you?"
It was a simple question, but she was genuinely curious. She also felt it would have been rude not to ask otherwise.
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Posted: Wed Dec 10, 2014 10:13 pm
"Oh, please, no need to stand on my account," Shylla responded, crossing the distance to sit at the candidate's table. After all, the poor girl hadn't expected a visit from the weyrmistress and was just trying to study, the last thing Shylla wanted to do was get in the way. She glanced down, curious to see the subject at hand, but she paused to glance up at the sound of the candidate's voice.
'How are you?'
In the weeks since Evmeth had chosen Malcarreth and all of the fallout had come down on the pair, she had yet to actually hear that phrase asked to herself. Everyone wanted to know about Evmeth's or her clutch, the state of the weyr, the impending weyrleader elections, but Shylla herself was often taken for granted. She supposed it was to be expected, given the sturdy exterior she'd crafted for herself over the Turns, but at times it was hard not to feel like she was sixteen and frightened all over again, studying late at night in these very barracks. The moment gave her pause to acknowledge the bittersweet rush of nostalgia that flowed over her.
"I am..." she paused again, scrunching up her nose as she looked for the words to say. Rubbing her eyes, she let out a bit of a chuckle. What use was there in sugar-coating things? "Well, exhausted, to be frank, but it comes with the territory. These are exciting times for us all, now that we know Evmeth is truly clutching." Shylla had never doubted, but there were plenty of dissenters for her to remind that 'yes, Evmeth made the proper choice, everything was going to be fine'. Sometimes, it felt good to be right.
"But I'm better, since you asked," the woman added, her expression warm. She relaxed her shoulders a bit, slipping into a more natural posture as she leaned back in her chair. "What is your name? I don't think I've seen you stand for a clutch before."
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Posted: Thu Dec 11, 2014 8:13 am
Qyprenna couldn't help but blink when Shylla told her that standing wasn't necessary. Such formalities, although simple, were things that had been engrained to her since she had began her candidacy. As such, they had sort of become a habit more than anything else, and not needing to do so was a bit of a foreign concept at this point. Yet despite that, the younger of the two girls couldn't help but give the weyrmistress a nod of her head in thanks. Shylla seemed a bit more lax than some of the other individuals in the Weyr, at least right now. That was a breath of fresh air, as far as Qyp was concerned.
The candidate went on to smile as Shylla gave her an honest response to her question. Others in her position might have tried to play it off. Some would outright deny their exhaustion, or others still might dance around the question. Not the weyrmistress, however, and that was something that Qyprenna could respect. Shylla even said that she had been better since being asked, and that made her face light up with happiness. Sometimes all it took was a simple question to brighten up someone's day, and a wave of gladness rushed over her at that. She was happy to help.
If Qyprenna was happy, she seemed to perk up even more at the mention of Evmeth clutching. A sparkle glinted in her eye, and she couldn't help but smile. Shylla's dragon was the queen, and the mother of the upcoming clutch. It was really an honor and a privilege to be in her company. The excitement and enthusiasm for the upcoming clutch was hard for Qyp to contain, and as had happened upon meeting Malcarreth, it ended up spilling over.
"How is the queen? I hope she's doing well! I managed to meet Malcarreth and his rider the other day while I was out looking at the clouds. He's super handsome, and I was so impressed and happy that he was chosen! He's going to be a good father!" All of these sentences spilled out in such a tizzy of delightment, and she continued on. "I haven't had the honor of standing yet, but I will be at this next clutch, and I'm suuuuper excited. Also nervous. It will be my first time."
Much like when Shylla said there was no need to stand, Qyp couldn't help but pause and blink in a sudden burst of silence. Oh, shard -- where were her manners?! The weyrmistress had asked for her name, and there she was rambling on about the clutch and how she had met Malcarreth and her excitement and just...just...well, she felt downright silly. With her face flushing a soft shade of pink from embarrassment, the candidate's gaze dropped down to the table in front of her.
"...I'm Qyprenna...." came her murmur, hushed and hesitant. Sheepishly, she rubbed the back of her shaved head. That was what she should have started with, as opposed to all the hullabaloo she actually prattled on about. "It's nice to meet you, ma'am."
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Posted: Mon Dec 15, 2014 1:45 pm
Shylla leaned forward as the young woman bubbled over with excitement, her mouth curling into a warm smile. Oh, to be young and so full of wonder and zeal for the world, without worry of Sofianists or dissenters in the ranks, to imagine only the joy of finding your bondmate. By the end of her speech, Shylla found her chin sitting in the palm of her hands lovingly, and when the girl went silent she was quick to adjust her posture. Had she been too forward or tired-seeming? She certainly hadn't meant to offend.
"Ohh, hun, you don't need to be embarrassed, that was so sweet," Shylla was quick to reply, lifting the girl's chin softly with one of her fingers. "I'm glad there are candidates like you, Qyprenna, we've been in desperate need of a few optimists around here."
"Tell you what," Shylla added, booping the candidate's nose like she might have been a child, "I don't like to leave Evmeth to herself for long, would you like to join me in keeping her company?"
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Posted: Mon Dec 15, 2014 1:58 pm
A bright shade of red flushed across Qyp's face at Shylla's kind words toward her. She couldn't help it, really. As a candidate, she wasn't used to hearing such things, and instead was much more used to hearing yelling belted in her general direction. The boop on the nose caused the blush to spread even more, covering the entirety of the girl's face, and she found herself averting her gaze shyly. "You-...you can just call me Qyp." Using her full name was so formal, in her mind. Such formalities weren't necessary, unless Shylla really wanted to call her by her full name.
At the mention of seeing Evmeth, the candidate seemed to snap right back to attention and out of her shy attitude. A chance to see the actual senior queen and mother of the upcoming clutch?! Oh, man! It wasn't just a great honor, but a huge opportunity. Passing up such a chance would be foolish on her part, and there was no way she was going to say no. She practically flailed with excitement on just the offer alone, and seemed to bounce happily when she responded to Shylla with an an eager, "Of course! Oh, wow -- meeting the queen! That's...that's...oh man. It's my lucky day!"
It really was, though. How many candidates got to say they had the chance to meet both the clutchmother and the clutchfather?! Not many, that's who.
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