==== September 29, 2013
==== Zeyta, Sadaiya
====Plans for the greater good: Zeyta's ambition, of course!

Who Zeyta, Sadaiya
What A conversation in the archives becomes dealmaking.
When Spring, 1 Turn, 1 month, and 9 days until the 12th Pass
Where Archives, Igen Weyr

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A grand room, lost to more pressing concerns, the Archives hold many treasures well past their prime, from instruments to examples of older flying gear and agenothree tanks. Faded and disused Records lean tiredly against their shelves, their bindings peeling and creating layers of dust on surfaces long left without maintenance. The floors are dirty, various footprints creating crisscrossing paths between rickety wooden chairs and drunkenly off-kilter tables. Columns rise upward to the ceiling, hung with glow-baskets scarcely tended and fast losing their strength. The hum of activity is duller, here in this forgotten space — few visit in search of historical facts.

Tap tap tap tap. Shuffle. Step step step. SCREEEEAK. All this onomatopeia and more, courtesy of the archives single, short occupant. Sadaiya's making enough racket for two, the utter worst at any sort of covert operations as she uffs, leaving another armload of precious, ancient hides on a large table with a rather indelicate drop that would have Master Oriana rising in her grave to beat her senseless for. Then back to climb the small ladder up to the top most shelves, strain, stretch, and retrieve more documents. Exciting, right? Not so much, but the wee goldrider sure seems breathless with anticipation, eyes a'glitter in the glowlight.

Bright, sunshine-y day outside you say? Pfft, too many people milling about shirking responsibility - this is Igen, after all. Zeyta, eschewing the climes - temperate and social - ushers into her blissful haven of the archives, an introvert's dream come true. Until she espies a noise maker amidst the clutter, and further ascertains her identity with a scowling hunt for the knot atop her shoulder. Sighing, she proceeds with her usual (and hypocritical) tumult of feet thundering across the ground and beelines for her staked out desk, left in pristine order since she last visited.

New noise definitely startles Sadaiya out of her industrious reverie and she practically leaps behind a column, not at all suspiciously, her lush mane of hair sticking out enough to give her away even more than her elbow and leg. Then, stealthily, she peeeers around and notices who it is. Pretense is discarded for purpose, and she strides MIGHTILY over to Zeyta's Fortress of Solitude. "Excuse me, brownrider Zeyta? I know we don't realllly talk much, but I was woooondering if I could trouble you for just a teensy-weensy moment?" She pinches her fingers together, leaving a tiny space, and smiles with as many ingratiating watts as she can muster.

Zeyta deposits herself with an unceremonious descent into her leather-backed chair, positioned precariously at the lip of her seat to tilt and tuck herself in against her table. Sinking back against it, her feet dangle every-so-slightly unable to touch the ground. Woe the troubles of small stature, and even more woeful the titanic personality crammed into this one. Antics, she ignores, procuring a thin, brown volume with gold leafing along the edges of the page, rifling through its contents until she locates her place and - then Sadaiya interrupts. Cue an inkling of curiosity that breaks her stoic marble facade, brow lifted in definite intrigue as the power-monger in her bids her respond, "By all means, weyrwoman." She motions for her to pull up another chair at the opposite end of her table, conference style.

Blinking, smile freezing in place in surprise, Sadaiya's left to shrug lightly and slink into the open chair. "I meant to look you up sooner, but what I'm about to ask of you isn't… exactly… something I want repeated in front of the Weyrwoman herself, and Corelle appears at THE most unlikely times, save for in here. Now, you're a fighting rider, correct?" Then her smile turns to a frown and she scoffs at herself, screwing her eyes shut. "Dumb question, dumb question. Starting over. And, if you could be as candid as possible, I'd super appreciate it. What are your thoughts on the policies our new Weyrwoman has enacted since her flight?"

Zeyta claws at a blank sheet of hide, folding a column lengthwise across it to ride her thumb down along the manufactured seam, tearing away a strip to mark her line in her book. Folding it closed, she pushes it aside, elbows dropped on the table to raise steepled fingers under her chin. "In theory, I suppose. Although due to my self-election to Mirage, I am, ah, 'a complete waste of a fighting dragon' if you ask others such as our esteemed weyrleader." A razor-sharp smirk accompanies this, genial until one considers who owns this expression. "Which policies? The bazaar is a den of iniquity, but I'd sooner capitalize on their income, however illegitimately it is come by, and tax them rather than crack down on the crime and leave disgruntled would-be tithers before Thread ravages." So, her mind jumps to the economic - guide her a bit!

W'rin's claim cracks Sadaiya's composed facade a little bit, her brows drawing together even as one rises, taken aback. "Nuh-uh," she murmurs, thinning her lips to a straight, pale line, goggling intelligently, listening intently. Crossing her legs at the ankles, she leans forward, resting her elbows gently on the table's edge. "That's a good point about the bazaar though. A woman there, Gritta, I'd just as soon let her handle keeping things in line, though neither her NOR the Weyrwoman will let me investigate. Actually, I'm more curious about your thoughts regarding the, ah, unilateral… gendered… approach… to the candidates. You being a female rider of a fighting dragon and all, I'd think you'd be singularly… screw it." Pursing her lips, she huffs out a breath. Looks left. Looks right. "Are you OKAY with it being only guys on the sands? I'm not, but I'm a junior weyrwoman and don't really have as much perspective on how this will affect the fighting ranks. W'ri… the Weyrleader, he won't listen to my input on things either. So, flat out, do you support the decision to, without a gold egg, keep women 'in the caverns' or 'making sandwiches' or whatever?" She liberally applies rolls of her kohl-lined eyes and air quotes to the words that tumble out of her mouth top speed.

"Mmm, I'd plant guardsmen within their ranks, honestly. As a werywoman, they are at your disposal, even if Corelle has final authority. But what's Corelle to know of all that goes on in the Weyr?" Zeyta continues along unfazed by her own outrageous regales. Composed, her face settles into mute lines, unmoved and unrevealing of thought or intent. "Certainly the vast majority of women are being wasted in Nowtime with barred access to crafts and dragonriding. The utility of our sex lends itself to far more than drudgery and procreation," is the first answer she offers, mouth sealing into a tight line as she contemplates elaboration. "I've come not to expect much of the narrow-minded men who run our world here, but a woman who not only submits but enforces their sexist standards is reprehensible. I'd be Weyrleader would all of Pern not exile me to the wilds of Southern." A pause, to let the meaning behind her droll monotone eke out, before, "In short: I think Igen would be better served if its leadership vanished ::between:: with their ludicrous notions of women and dragonriding." Cue another poisonous smile, cruel and cutting.

With unbridled enthusiasm, Sadaiya nods vigorously enough to require a moment's combobulation, placing a bracing two fingers against her temple. "Good. Excellent!" she bubbles out, then moves the bracing hand to cover her mouth. "Sorry. Sorry. Bit loud. Ah-em. Anyway, I was hoping that would be your answer. It's not … I'm not … I mean I've heard you had very…strong… opinions. From people. Nothing bad! Well, not really anyway." Her smile is slightly apologetic, mostly impish. "You know how THEY can get here, and the Weyrleader isn't looking to upset the balance, though he doesn't seem too happy to me in general, so don't write him off juuuuust yet. Sorry. Getting away with things. So we — myself, A'lory, with a counsel from Sara (you know her, she's the one with the shop that got raided the other day, POOR GIRL!). Anyway, we were thinking… and I'd love your guidance with this, because it could start things moving very quickly." She wrings her hands, tamping down impatient, frantic gesturing. "It's not too hard to make a girl look like a boy, do you think? Hide a few female candidates in the caverns, cut their hair, bandage down their, um, decolletage. Ohh, but fardles. Healer checkups. There's so many DETAILS, and I'm also worried that, should some impress, they won't be trained!"

Again, Zeyta breaks character with apprehensive surprise signaled in that subtle hitch of her brow, forehead furrowed. "I am blunt. Many people dislike me for it," she murmurs, deadpan with indifference writ in her expression. "It's not undoable. I Searched candidates and organized egg touchings without being an official member of Igen Weyr, much less a member of the weyrlingmaster staff for the last clutch." Oh, Zeyta, someday your reckless hauteur will ruin you. Smirking yet again. "But." Here, her fingers unentangle, a single pointer leveled at the goldrider. "You realize you are asking me, a rankless, female wingrider to collaborate with a weyrwoman, weyrsecond, and journeyman harper, correct? What fallback do I have. What gain is there for me." Her other brow obtains the same elevation as the other, askance framed. "As refreshing as philosophical accordance is, helping other women could be quite a detriment to my female ambitions."

Crossed eyes regard the finger levelled in her face, and Sadaiya blinks a few times, then frowns in a slightly crestfallen fashion. "Well, I mean, it's not that I'd implicate you at all! This is all on me. After all, even here, goldriders are something close to sacrosanct. I've, uh, got… marks? I can put in a good word for you with all sorts of people?" Focusing back on Zeyta's face, she searches for SOME amount of give among the myriad freckles. Another sigh. "Isn't it enough to likely go down in history if we don't all end up tied together in the brig? Zeyta, I don't know that I can GIVE you anything that'll actually mean much in the short term. There's not going to be much applause, save from the girls you actually give a future to. Maybe…maybe you can be N'thu's wingsecond or transfer over there or something. He's also 'in on things'. But if not fame itself, what WOULD you put yourself on the line for?"

"Words mean little. Marks I have." Zeyta negates each suggestion with a slight shake of her head, 'no, that will not do' for her. Pressing her palms flat on the table, she leans forward, breaking straight posture to hunch. She stares, gaze stone-hard and cold. "I don't want to transfer. I want to remain close to you…mm, sacrosanct weyrwomen. Besides, Teyaschianniarina is already Parhelion's wingsecond, and I'd rather spread the wealth of my influence. If you can't offer me the immediate rewards of rank, at least offer me power. Bring me in on the administrative and diplomatic responsibilities you oversee as a weyrwoman. Whatever goes on behind the scenes. I've turns of experiences." Wait, what??? Did she just offer to HELP in exchange for becoming a glorified secretary? … Yes.

Sadaiya chokes a bit on the 'diplomacy' off, smothering a cough with her hand, her eyes dancing. "Well, I'm not certain you're cut out for the delicate art of placating holders," she says, pulling as straight a face as she can. "Otherwise, though, you're smart, in a unique position to give input on Threadfighting matters, you're… quite straightforward." Her mind is working quickly now, and she taps her cheekbone with a single, well manicured finger. "The answer is yes. There's just a few things on my mind about image, but the whole 'might make you swallow your teeth' thing you have going on could be applied very interestingly. VERY interestingly, yes. Was this something you did at High Reaches for one of the weyrwomen before?"

Zeyta concedes to the criticism with a whispering trace of laughter, more bemused than genuinely entertained. "I can put on quite the performance given enough political incentive. Akadriel mentored me in handling, mmm, those who need convincing." Despite this profession, she still flashes a pearlescent smile all teeth, more predatory than pretty and charming. "I've read plenty of tactical literature in regards to Threadfighting, and supplemented much of Igen's scarce resources with my, ah, re-appropriated records from High Reaches." A fire kindles in her face, and for a brief instant the brownrider is less marble statue, but animated to the vanilla-cinammon-and-chocolate affair suggested by her features. "Brilliant. Yes, I have been assisting weyrwomen in some capacity since I was 10, until I Impressed. Before the comet, I was, ah, quite involved with goldrider Tuli. Pity the Telgari interloper usurped the senior knot, elsewise we'd not be having this conversation." Reaching for another blank hide and this time a stylus (one of several lined up to her left elbow), she begins to scribble a sentence. "I can write you a formal resume so you're well aware of all the skills I might offer. Otherwise, I'll find a healer sensitive to your cause before we next convene to sign off on physicals. The one boundary is the weyrlingmaster staff, as they oversee candidates. K'ane is doubtless agreeable, I should think, but greenrider Sienna cannot stomach my presence." Blink-blink.

"No fooling!" exclaims Sadaiya, clapping her hands together, then rubbing them in blithe glee. "Well, can't really have a better pedigree than the Chadeys. I myself spent a couple turns among them during my wild-and-wooly phase as a teenager! My son… well, that's another story for another time." She flicks her fingers, then rolls her eyes, oblivious to any animosity. "You're quite correct about Tuli, though. If only Elicheritath had risen sooner, or Corelle hadn't been here, or Vergora… So many 'ifs'." A sigh, a shake of her head. "No no, I believe you, I do. And it's best to keep as much of a writing trail out of things until Igen is more… secure. Sienna's not… privy to this. I'm sure you understand, though she's as trustworthy as you could want. K'ane, you said? Tuli, of course, if you wish to talk to her about this? Or should I? Do you suppose we should confide in MORE people or is a smaller core group a bit better?"

"Mmm, I suppose. My arrangement with Akadriel was a lucrative one." Zeyta stays her writing handing, dropping the stylus though her bold, typerwriter script stands stark on the page. "Perhaps we might even work toward returning Corelle to Telgar," she says, so non-chalant - a casual inflection belied by the conspiratorial sparkle in her grim gaze. Sitting upright once more, she resumes her severe carriage, shoving her shoulders back with a brutal efficiency of motion. "Corelle will confine herself to the Sands. Weyrlingstaff will interact with candidates regularly, I'm not sure how well you'd disguise girls against them or their dragons. If not privy, they must at least be complicit; the fewer ears to hear the whole tale, the better."

Sadaiya tilts her head slightly. "Are you always so tense?" she asks, curious and soft-eyed. "I'm not going to bite or anything." The pure terror that is 4'10" of steel, but, for the moment, her body slackens to casual in a grandiose misinterpretation of the powers of her own intimidation in the face of notorious stoicism. Nevertheless, she sallies forth, reaching forward ingratiatingly across the table, not quite making contact. "If we're going to work together, I hope you can learn that I'm not your enemy or anything. Neither is Corelle. She means well, even if she's gravely and COMPLETELY kind of… well, stupid." The last is mouthed, the corners of her mouth turning upwards in a sweet smile.

"… I value my comportment. It wards off the most of undesirable company." Zeyta shifts, clasping her hands together to arrest idle movement. Clarifying, "you don't intimidate me, nor do I necessarily dislike you." Focus riveted on the creeping grip that crawls towards her, she breaks into a frown. "Mm, I've not time for stupidity. Or friendship. But you'll find me loyal and efficient. As for Corelle, well. She does not make the climb to Weyrsecond any easier, upholding ridiculous stereotypes." Pause. "Because I will obtain that knot. Someday." Even the most practical minds fall victim to the illusions of grandeur. And yet, aspirations stated and a deal brokered, Zeyta will return her smile, cloying in its curve.

Both of Sadaiya's eyebrows shoot upwards, and she withdraws her hand, wiggling her fingers. Clearly, she meant for that to happen. Ahem. "Well I'll keep your limits in mind. I'm sure you'll figure out mine, in time. You'll know if I have a problem because, likely, I will tell you. At length. Fortunately, you have a lovely vocabulary, so if we REALLY get into it, it'll make for good listening." Another smile. "As for that Weyrsecond knot, who knows what the future may bring. Finding out that you're willing to work with people is certainly a start, and you're QUITE cut from the same cloth as A'lory. I think you two would get along."

"Oh, yes. Now that we've similar interests, you'll find me much more agreeable," Zeyta informs her without apparent qualm. "But those are decent grounds on which to start. And I suppose this means I shall meet with you in the morning, to go over your itinerary for the next sevenday. I'll acquaint myself with your records over this evening." Her good mood fades, receding behind her stony mask donned for public scrutiny. "Mm. I'd as soon as see all of the weyrleadership overhauled with Corelle, truth be told. Not to slight A'lory, but he is part of an Nowtime administration. And so long as W'rin clings to certain aspects of his Nowtime, he will remain blind to what we Oldtimers fully offer. Now, if you'll excuse me."

"Oooh, be sure to send a firelizard — if you have one, I mean. If not we can change that. Anyway, Tanmorand, my weyrmate, is not the most graaaaaceful at awakening," drawls Sadaiya, smirking a bit. "He's normally very sweet, and won't be in the way. If, for some reason, I'm off on duties, you'll find my personal day-to-day scribblings on the big, round table in my weyr. Well, not ROUND round, more octagonal. And, um, they tend to talk less than I do, so don't worry about too much filler." Her smirk turns into a wry smile and she pushes up from the table, brushing the palms of her hands over the front of her skirt. "On that note, I must get back to 'it', which is looking for some sort of hint about what happens if a change in administration is NEEDED rather than, say, if a dragonrider gets too old or ill. So far, there's not a real precedent for it, but I'm sure SOMETHING is in these hides."

"I have firelizards. If they do not avail themselves, I'll have Kczyslawborth bespeak Jivayath." Oh, was she trying to avoid having creepyterrordungeon visions waking her in the morning? Oops. Zeyta opts to disregard the majority of her personal anecdote, repeating key information such as, "desk, right." Then, she grabs her book, so long denied her - but not before she starts to prove her worth, helpful already. "Mmm, there are accounts of Weyrleaders who forfeit their knots and several options to establish an interim governing body, but little precedence for forced abdication or replacement of senior goldriders. But consulting harper law might allow you to build a case for how to proceed in unchartered territory." With that, her eyes snap forward, and she immerses herself in reading.

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