====September 10, 2013
====Cullen, Ellen, Maryam, Teyaschianniarina
====After the raid on the Bazaar meeting, Ellen and Teya come to see Cullen and Maryam in the brig.

Who Cullen, Ellen, Maryam, Teyaschianniarina
What After the raid on the Bazaar meeting, Ellen and Teya come to see Cullen and Maryam in the brig.
When There is 1 turn 3 months and 6 days until the 12th pass.
Where Brig, Igen Weyr




From outside Brig: Loose to roam, Ellen's dragged the hem of her serape across her face once or twice briskly and then fallen to a loose prowl along the shadows of the Weyr. Peasant-plain and stocky, she enjoys all the anonymity of a common drudge, even whistling a little as she goes. Rearranging the contents of her pockets. Brushing off her hands. Scanning faces for — Maybe she was looking for any rider or guard with a familiar face. Spotting /Teya/ probably means it's that much sweeter. After probably a big SOLID hug like a sandbag and some hauling of the brownrider's hand, she's been talking in husky-rapid breaths a short tale of a bazaar meeting, a guard raid, and a lot about 'no-good cocksucking motherfuckers'. Their scientific term. To the Guardhouse they go - she can GET IN because she has a Teya, right? That's like a doorticket?

From outside Brig: A Teya is definitely something like a doorticket: while it's not the authority of the Weyrsecond anymore that gains her entrance it is familiarity and the fact that she still has more of a hand in than anyone other than the wingsecond of Parhelion should. (Maybe even a little more so. There's been some efforts to slash and burn through the ranks without inciting mutiny, but the course is a slow one.) She catches the attention of the guard at the desk with a quick rap of her knuckles against its surface, and while she doesn't have a badge to lay down on the table her, "I believe you've just taken two-," glance-down (not so far down) to confirm the number with Ellen, "-into custody. From the bazaar?" In case there are MORE people been arrested today. The guard grunts acknowledgement, and Teya escorts Ellen further into the brig. In search of her (Ellen's) father. Father-plus-one.

One of the two recently taken into custody is Maryam. The veiled young woman looks nothing like a criminal but surely her presence here show that Igen's guards don't discriminate! That's a positive, right? She's here not because she put up a fight after being detained but as security for her mother, who was whisked out of the bazaar and right into the infirmary for unknown reasons after the melee. Weyr gossip probably already has it that the elder Steen took down at least four guards with her cane before being subdued and so here the younger Steen is: she sits in demure fashion on the bench, hennaed hands folded in her lap, veil-swathed head lowered to obscure any glimpse of emotion. Only the slight shivering of the thin cloth over her lower face betrays some sort of internal agitation.

All the while, Cullen prowls. Back and forth in front of the bars, his head is ever turned to one side to gaze outwards at the realm beyond the bars. Head hung low, eyes unblinking, he trails fingertips along each post back and forth. B-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-BAM. At the end of each cycle he slaps a hand down against the wall and pushes off to pace the other way. You might almost get the sense he was sentry-duty guarding the daughter of the mighty Steen family. Restless, who, Cullen? "— Ell." Here's a rare sound, Cullen sounds surprised. They generally don't allow young children to just wander into a guard-. His pacing ceases, " —brownrider."

From outside Brig: "See who I found?" Ellen seems vaguely pleased that Cullen didn't seem to have been expecting to see this blast from the past, but there's a strange - disconnect, now that they've arrived. She claps her eyes on her father - a large bruise has begun to well to the side of his face, and dried blood still flakes beneath his nostrils - and then just moves them past the man to look through the bars at Maryam instead. She jerks her chin, "Y'alright, lady?"

From outside Brig: "Cheesemaker," Teya answers back, eyes keen on his face - both for the familiarity of it and to assess the damage. "And," she looks to Maryam, "I'm sorry, you're - Maaaaryam?" If it's a guess it's a correct one, but it's likely she has been at least loosely appraised of the situation by someone not!Ellen prior to being intercepted. "I see you're gracing us with your presence on another stop on your tour of all the brigs of Pern," is back to Cullen, almost but not quite pitched upward as a question. "You've been seen to?"

For the brownrider, Maryam will stand from the bench and execute a deep bow at the waist. "Ma'am. Yes. Maryam, Steen's daughter." Aaaand to be honest, she's not displeased that the woman's attention roves back towards Cullen- there's an unusual stiffness to her movements when interacting with the lady rider. Once the bow is finished, respects given, she retreats all too easily to the bars outlined by Ellen's blocky form. "Well enough," she murmurs so as not to intrude on the other conversation. "Have you had word of my mother?"

Cullen glances briefly from the corner of an eye at that slight stiffness beneath Maryam's sweeping veils - and then the full sweep of his gaze lands dead back on Teya. And he goes on ahead and thrusts a hand through the bars to the woman rider to clasp wrists like old Traders, "Thoroughly," his broken teeth flash - the lines of his face aren't smile lines, and it shows badly when they have to stretch for one, "Figure a few hundred turns wiped my slate. Startin' over fresh." And then, more solemnly, "Good to see you. Your bloods done by mine, and my 'van. It's not forgotten."

"'S at the Infirmary," Ellen slants her mouth sideways in a sort of practical apologetic grimace to Maryam, "'s all you can really hear from th'outside. They got'r under watch - she was still spittin' feathers last I heard. Y'need anything? Teya here - she fair. Straight as shell. But fair." Standing near the bars, she adjusts her poncho; where Maryam stands, she'll see the possessions kept tucked tight to her belt beneath. It vanishes from sight the next second, all looking mostly like the young girl is just itchy and scratching her ribs.

From outside Brig: Teyaschianniarina is not unaware of that stiffness, but neither does she do Maryam the disservice of calling attention to it; while most of her focus stays on Cullen, he doesn't have it entire. She's totally keeping half an eye and an ear on the conversation going on beside her. That doesn't mean she doesn't favor him with a snorted huff of a laugh, and the clasp of her hand against his wrist in return is firm. "Never though I'd be this pleased to see you roll into my," okay, she may still be a little proprietary over the guard still, "brig. You need anything?" It's an echo of Ellen's question, and she bunts the young trader's shoulder with her own (not quite her own, not yet: upper arm is near enough for government work, though) as she waits for either (both) of the imprisoned to answer.

Maryam touches light fingertips to the space between her brows, as if struck there by a sudden sharp pain. But, when her hand lowers again, she is favoring Ellen with a smile. Shown of course purely through her eyes- she has a knack for it, or has learned one since taking up the veil. "That sounds very much like her. Thank you, young Ellen. You are…" A pause, while a glance flicks downwards, towards that supposedly itchy spot. "…you are a credit to your father," she finally finishes. Then, as her attention has been urged towards the brownrider, she lets her regard settle there. It's a curiously unblinking study from a woman who's as likely to keep her gaze down as not. When it finishes, she asks, "Would it be possible for you to carry word to the Weyrleader? Of this?" Steen-in-a-cell, she likely means.

"-your da?" Cullen's last question for Teya doesn't harbor much hope - or, well, being Cullen there's never really 'hope' in his dark waters. But he seems to expect no joyful mood, and the tone is grim and very passing. Then he's leaning a shoulder against the bars where both Teya, Mayam (and Ellen, though sorry pipsqueak, you're too short to be within his line of sight) where he can see them and commenting, "Y'know. There's a fair chance he knew already. Unless things're done different now," he glances at Teya inquiring, "the Weyrleader mind the riders while weyrwomen call the shots on the ways of the Weyrfolk. It may be," he moves his unblinking eyes back to Mayram, "they bronzerider has been leashed."

From outside Brig: Ellen leans against Teya's thumping, propping her up with meaty arms crossed and eyes tracking between each person talking - for the moment, silent and listening as the youngest person present. Keen-alert and attending without interrupting with foolish questions.

From outside Brig: "Stayed," Teya answers Cullen, and even after nearly a turn's time there is still a spasm of loss that crosses her face at the admission. "Leadership just changed hands," she fills in the blanks for the cheesemaker, though there is no doubt Maryam is already well familiar with this occurrence. (And the subsequent downgrade of the brownrider's shoulder knot from Weyrsecond to wing-.) "But I'm still known to it - I'll pass word to W'rin," is there a faint breath of a weary sigh in her pause? Maybe. "I haven't had time to," stick her nose where it doesn't actually belong anymore, "get the whole story from anyone. Just what Ellen," shoulder-jostle, lean, "managed to brief me on, on the way here." Someone elaborate pls.

This is a fact: Cullen is male and her elder. This is also a fact: he is an Oldtimer from outside of Igen. This is a conflict that plays out silently, with only few visible cues: the faint rumpling of Maryam's brow behind her veil, an indrawn breath that flattens the fabric against her lips. He holds higher esteem in the world; he knows nothing. In the end, upbringing wins out and she bows her head. "As you say, sir." For Teya, there is an even deeper lowering of her head in gratitude. "It was the regular meeting. To discuss Bazaar business. The guards saw fit to enter and arrest one of our own for illegal dealings, and viewed the rest with suspicion of the same. W'rin is not leashed, he will understand the severity of this." Because he's a man? Because he's Weyrleader, or an ex-employee of the Pit? Or Igenite through and through? The young woman doesn't clarify.

"If he's not in on it," Cullen looks at no one at all now; just the far wall, speaking through lips that hardly move, "Then he's ignorant of it. Neither recommends him, daughter Steen. Either thy ally slips, or thy hooks in him. Choose as you'd like." Brief spear-glance, arrowed at Teya, and to her initial news he offers only, "Sorry to hear." He takes in a breath, "You'll see that Elly gets down Southern-way?"

Ellen doesn't look pleased to be send away, frowning briefly - she never looks more her father's child than when her lips compress - but only lowers her head and rocks loosely when jostled and murmurs rote, "Do ya, about Mr. T'ii." Mr. T. He'd pity a fool. She performs a rapid gesture of the hand, tapping a fist it off chest chin and brow, and then kisses her own knuckles. (Much more subdued, Cullen reflexively performs a similar gesture, if more subtly.) "I'll stay til they y'all out." And, y'know - return their belongings. Her eyes land heavily on Maryam, "—fair luck, for y'mam. 've lost mine, and a brother now, fair. S'always more family t'find. Harder, t'lose."

From outside Brig: "Thank you," Teya tells Maryam for her report, "I'll make sure it's brought to his attention." Knowing Teya, it will be with prompt and ruthless efficiency. She doesn't weigh in on Cullen's opinions of their weyrleader, but that doesn't mean she doesn't take note; when she does respond it's with a murmured, "Thanks," and a clearer, "I'll make sure everyone gets where they need to go," there's a pause, then an amendment for Ellen's inclusion, "when it's time to get there. C'mon, El," is paired with the hook of her arm around Ellen's neck, to start steering her toward the out, "you can catch me up while I write up my reports. Cullen," is tacked on at the end, not a true afterthought but definitely separate. That's the end of the sentence, though: she punctuates it with a clean salute of her own, then ferries her nominal charge out and away.

Add a New Comment