====September 22, 2013
====Bailey, Hannah
====Bailey has a request of Hannah, Hannah gets muffins and Dimitri is released from being barred from the sands.

Who Bailey, Hannah
What Bailey has a request of Hannah, Hannah gets muffins and Dimitri is released from being barred from the sands.
When There is 1 turn 2 months and 0 days until the 12th pass.
Where Ebon Askavi, Southern Weyr


Ebon Askavi
The weyr is forbidding, done in dark colors with heavy wooden furniture. Careful cleaning has left the wooden furniture gleaming, the living area is blocked off to the side by dark mahogany screens in lacquered panels depicting delicate scenes of color flowers and brightly plumed avians and felines hidden at the base, ready to pounce upon the unsuspecting wildlife. A round table sits off to the side, nearest to the small hearth that keeps the weyr warm. Behind the screens, heavy couches are arrayed in such a way that guests are made welcome, though not comfortable enough to remain for too long. The sleeping area can be glimpsed through the shallow dip that leads into Dhiammarath's area. The walls maintain the color of dark volcanic rock, striated in marbled grey. Overall, the living area is comfortable, but heavy and a touch foreboding.
The glowbaskets are lighted and illuminate the room beautifully.
You see Fluffeh and Tinkles here.
Bailey is here.
Obvious exits:
Baths Ledge Couch Stairs

-- On Pern --
It is afternoon
It is 3:27 PM where you are.
There is 1 turn 2 months and 0 days until the 12th pass.
It is Spring and 81 degrees. It is slightly overcast.

YOU KNOW THAT BAILEY HAS COME FOR SOMETHING because she comes bearing goodies. And not just her regular goodies… extra-special goodies. She has MUFFINS and quiche and fruit and cold slices of meat from the night before, and sweet light wine — perfect for brunch, right? "Knock-knock!" in a clear, mellow alto.

Someone slept in. Evident in the tousled hair, the shadows that cling beneath green eyes, and the nightshirt that hangs rumpled to the tops of Hannah's thighs. "Bailey," voice thick with sleep, she sweeps her gaze from the flame-haired junior to her basket of goodies. Eyes widen. "You have come to ply me with treats." A muffin is grabbed for before she walks deeper into her weyr, motioning the other woman to share a seat. "You know me so well." She could be hung over.

"I try," Bailey responds. "There're even klah-cookies." No PB&J though. That's totally not Bailey's gig. The taller of the two has no problems with moving over to sprawl in a seat and start pouring wine — because wine in the morning is EXACTLY what they need. "Late night?" Her voice shades sympathetic. "I was up all night, myself. Thinking." Her nose WRINKLES. She has better things to do than think. Like sleep.

"Are you bent on making me fat, Bailey?" Hannah asks with mock suspicion, pale 'brows raising though she'll reach for one of those klah-cookies. Mercilessly, she savages the cookie which leaves her without the need to speak for a least a moment, before the wine is used to wash the cookie down. "Something like that. Had a run in with Q'fex…" She frowns, and turns to examine the cookie. "Thinking? About what?" Now she has Hannah's attention. "Surely you aren't also in the Q'fex love trap." Surely, she jests.

"Maybe. But I'll be right there with you. Besides. There are plenty of men who enjoy a woman with curves." Chubby-chasers, man. They exist. "Blegh. Q'fex." And she shakes her head, touseled red curls jouncing, regarding the weyrleader. "No, thanks. I prefer my men with class, or possibly half a thought for when to keep their mouths shut." She sprawls back and considers Hannah for a long moment, Bailey does. "I… actually was thinking about…" Does Pern have a word for this? Fuck it, it does. "…karma."

"We can be plump old ladies together, telling tales, getting drunk." Hannah's look of amusement is unrepentant when she digs for more of the goodies out of that basket. "I just… want to stop feeling guilty about everything. I feel like nothing — no choice I make ends up being — well now that's not true. Not all of them end up bad." This causes her to tuck tangled pale hair behind both ears, sitting on the couch nearest Bailey, with her legs folded beneath her. The shirt covers little in the way of her legs, which allows for crumbs to fall everywhere. Not that Hannah cares. "Karma?" She may look confused, but she quiets. Listens. While pinching the top of a muffin off and slipping it between her teeth. Muffin tops are the best, yo.

"Can we?" Bailey's voice sounds a little wistful. That's her END GOAL OF LIFE. Being a happy little old lady, messing with all the youngins' heads and shaking her cane telling the kids to GET OFF HER LEDGE. "That's how life is, I guess. Regret and pain and guilt." Bailey sounds matter-of-fact. "No, I. Karma. I…" She shakes her head. "Hannah, do you think that things come back to haunt you if you don't do what you can to make them right? If you've… acted out of malice or spite?"

"But it's not all bad. Sometimes, the good moments come and surprise us. I'll get over it. I just don't like hurting the people I care about." Hannah drops her eyes to the muffin she's got in her hand, picking out the lumps of redfruit inside to nibble on. "I don't think things come back to haunt you, but I suppose guilt can be a beast that will eat away your soul if you let things sit." Seriousness weighs in Hannah's expression, thinning the reserve that frames the real woman beneath. A stillness comes, hands frozen where they hold the muffin. "Bailey?" The barest hint of question lies within husky whisper, knowing more lies beneath the heart of the junior's question.

"Yeah." Bailey picks at her own things, wrapping a slice of cold wherry around a chunk of cheese. She nibbles at it. "Guilt." Seems like both of their issues come back to the same thing. Strange, considering how DIFFERENT the context of both is. She takes a deep breath, as if to brace herself, and then meets Hannah's gaze. "I almost killed Dimitri." Beat, and then — because she just can't not defend herself, "… accidentally." That would be bad enough, except, then, a bare mutter later, "I kind of rubbed Cerise's nose in it."

Hannah's eyes widen slightly, brows lifting even more while hands still hover in mid-pluck of muffin bit from the muffin top. "Did you now?" The question is quiet, thoughtful and perhaps causes the teeth to bite into her bottom lip a little bit. "Dimitri almost dies every day he lives," the comment is stated dryly and not without some irony to it, for all that it's not entirely true. "But why rub Cerise's nose in it? Oooooh. Because of what she said." Pale lashes lower, some of the pieces falling to place. A low-toned murmur comes along with the slow lowering of her hands, muffin forgotten. "We say and do such things to each other," it's almost out of place, this comment, that comes in a voice more reminiscent of graveyards and darkness, a chilling depth that hints to the woman that lies beneath, "and it's going to be mean nothing when it's all taken away."

Bailey mutters a little. To herself. Then she sighs. "Thread will change so much." Her voice is wistful again, for a different way. A shared melancholy, as Bailey is intently aware of that-which-lingers in the near future. There's a compulsion, then, and Bai leans forwards, a hand covering Hannah's closest one. "Hannah. Could I… ask a monumental favor of you?" Pause. "For karma."

"It will." Into the quiet stillness that has settled over Hannah's posture, these words fall like the bell tolling a death not yet taken. "What is it Bailey?" That she doesn't immediately agree shows the degree in which the junior has changed, approaching things with caution now rather than reckless promises. She turns her hand over, to grasp Bailey's however, as her green eyes settle upon the other goldrider's. Though they are serious, sharing the weight of whatever weighs upon Bailey to ask such favor.

Bailey told her not to trust people, didn't she. Well, it is as they say: you reap what you sow. "Would you consider," she pauses, hesitating, "Allowing Dimitri onto the Sands? To touch the eggs with the rest of his class. So long," she's hasty to say, "As he doesn't do anything… imbecilic." Another pause, and it's obvious the awkward redhead is working on finding the right words. "It would… perhaps allow me to rebuild a bridge I burned." And then, in the quiet after the request, she continues, "I understand if you cannot." That underscores one thing: her friendship with her fellow goldrider means more to her than this request, than her troubled mind, and she isn't going to NOT give Hannah a graceful out.

"I don't trust Dimitri," Hannah starts, the words coming slowly as if dredged up from the depths of her thoughts. This is all she says at first, ruminating in the silence that hangs between them on all that could happen, on all that's likely to happen and on all that has happened. Finally, a deep breath is taken, teeth once more nibbling on her lower lip. "I would allow him access to the eggs," reluctance is hard to let go of, curling within the midnight sepulcher tones that still lie whisper soft in the silence between, "Because he is a Candidate. I would do it for you, but I would prefer it if he's escorted by Th'seus or Q'fex." Much lies unstated, purposefully so. "So that if he does get any ideas, he can be escorted off." Finally, the look she turns upon Bailey is one so reminiscent of when she was proddy — only without the seductive, actual proddy aspect — that curls a finger of danger behind the steady green of her gaze. "I would do it for you. So that you can rest easier, Bailey. Guilt is not something I would wish upon anyone."

Trepidation brings relief on the heels, and — gratitude, undeniable. "Thank you, Hannah." She hesitates. "And may it be on my head if he doesn't…" Act as an upstanding model of a candidate. Or something. She doesn't finish that, just shakes her head and impulsively reaches over to hug her fellow goldrider. Then, because it somehow FITS with everything and with the moment, she chokes out, "El'ai's growing up." One can HEAR the sad in her voice.

"Of course, Bailey," a tremulous smile follows that, which then has Hannah's head dipping downward to grab at the remains of her muffin, in a sudden hurry to finish it. She chokes a little, coughing up muffin as her eyes fly once more to Bailey's. All hints of that danger has fled now, replaced by the sparkle of amusement. "Isn't it about time he does? He's the only male I know that's that clueless." She takes to silence once more, tone hinting at an underlying melancholy. "Aren't we all growing up? In some way or another, aren't we all… struggling to get through all the emotions of life? Love, laughter, death… I dunno. I guess I am just in one of those moods." Does she manage a wan smile? "Wait. Did I hear your brother mooning about that wild thing we brought back with us?"

It could be awkward, except EL'AI is such an easy mode of conversation. Bailey, meanwhile, looks all kinds of indignant with her agreement, releasing Hannah to laugh and pull off a ways. "Maosa. Yes… he is. It is insanity." A wry expression, then: "I… think he's growing up in ways more obvious than ours, Hannah." And she is so SADDENED about that. A little reflective, "I won't be able to protect him anymore." Wistful.

"No, Bailey," Hannah disagrees, a heat come to her voice; a fervency not yet seen in the entirety of converstion. A hint of protectiveness that sparks the curl of danger that lurks beneath. "You will always be able to protect him. Maybe not from the hurts of life, but you'll be there to remind him that things — that things aren't always bad. That he's not alone. That his feelings are reall even if another might not think so. That is just as much protection as physically protecting him from the hurts of life." Pausing, she drops her eyes again. "The only thing we can't protect him from is Thread."

Droll: "And women." Because what kind of life would THAT be, to live without love? Isn't that what they have been skirting around, really? But Bailey smiles at Hannah again, nodding her head in acquiescence. "You're right, of course." And about the menace… she hesitates, then shakes her head. "What do you think about the ground drills?" The ones that were so recently brought up in weyrcouncil, that is, or what they have of one. "Think we'll be ready for the mock version?"

Ahhh, love. It is a wellspring of so much, and no one is eager to jump into it. "And women. Bailey, when did life get so complicated?" It could be rhetorical question, but it's still voiced with the edge of frustration. The hesitation is noted and not let go. The mock drills can wait for Hannah is leaning closer, needing a refill of wine and a muffin for fortification. "What?" A question yes, but so much more too. "I think some of us will be, some of us won't be, and I won't get to participate at all in the mock version." Disappointment colors the last.

"When you guys jumped in," Bailey replies, dryly. Indeed, she doesn't typically highlight the difference, but there it is: she is, and will forever be, a nowtimer… even should she remain an unorthodox one to be sure. "Hmm. Eggsbound," she sounds sympathetic. "I…" She shakes her head, again. "Perhaps Q'fex will be so nice as to hold it indirect to the hatching caverns, so you can go out to the ledges and watch." Her voice is a tease. Entertainment factor, at least!

Her gaze remains steady, even with the verbal self-identification between nowtimer and oldtimer, for it is the truth. "You what?" Hannah's question is soft. For the tease, she has a small flash of a smile, but something deeper lingers, and it is to this that she seeks.

"Nothing. Just about ground drills," Bailey returns, shaking her head. "I think," she declares, "We should finish this and go browse the boardwalk. A bit of shopping will clear our minds of this business of karma and guilt and growing up and Thread." She offers the blonde a brilliant smile.

"Mmmm," Hannah unfolds herself from her couch. "Let me get changed first." Green eyes narrow just slightly upon Bailey's brilliant smile, though the shadows that cling beneath are still there. "You're buying, right?" Whatever thought has flitted through her head, has been covered by the sudden, cheery tease. "I've a mind to find a new, pretty dress." Inane talk now, without the weight of love, Thread, growin up and the guilt that threaded through the majority of their conversation. Hannah will return, and will end up linking arms with Bailey. "Take us away."

Bailey DOUBTLESS had an indignant retort on her lips — because Hannah, by now, will know how tightfisted Bailey is when it comes to marks — but something seems to give her pause. Perhaps the knowing that Hannah has just done her a favor; or, more applicably, a thought towards the greater contemplation of karma. "I'll find you a pretty dress," Bailey promises. She doesn't talk about how hard she'll haggle the poor seller down, but that's as inevitable as the sun rising and setting. As inevitable as the pair of them turning eyes… as inevitable, in the end, as Thread falling; and as inevitable as dragonmen rising, and vanquishing the menace that falls from the skies.
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