==== February 8, 2014
==== Sara, A'lory
==== Sara shares her unease at the plans the weyr and bazaar hold for the refugees and A'lory isn't happy.

Who Sara, A'lory
What Sara shares her unease at the plans the weyr and bazaar hold for the refugees and A'lory isn't happy.
When The first day of the first month of the 12th pass.
Where

sara_default.jpg unhappy


La%20Serenissima

La Serenissima
The flaking, honeycombed edges of once monumental limestone rocks have been sent over sideways by the toll of four hundred Turns' ill effects and put to use for writing spaces and seating. Bone white with salty scaling, smaller chips off the old block lie in a carefully scattered arrangement, lining a path along the subtly labyrinthine grooves of the stone floor, guiding one's feet between the minimal, shabby-chic trappings of a man's life tucked into convenient crevices; hidden deep in the smallest end of that dark place is a decadent scarlet and iron staircase twists upward into the inexplicable mountain chill that creeps in from some unknown source to touch the spine with madness. Looming larger still, a monolith of halite and limestone dominates the larger space, worn smooth for a dragon's sleeping space.


There's nothing like relaxing after a hard day's work, and A'lory takes advantage of a bit of downtime with a will; settled on a couch, he's idly sharpening his razor — perhaps he might even use it sometimes this wee.

"My dear rider, no one is about today." Sara's voice proceeds her into the weyr itself. A rather direct beeline is made towards the bed that she flops down upon, careful to keep her sandy shoes away from the covers. "For such a beautiful, if a bit cold, day…" Upon the bed she turns to look about, as if she actually isn't sure if someone else is in the weyr till her eyes lock upon A'lory. There's a small, and slightly impish, look as she eyes that razor, "I hear that works better if you use it on your face between sharpenings."

A'lory glances up, his face thoughtful. "You don't say… " He drawls, scratching at his stubbled jaw reflectively. "I'd heard that, but if my lady harper confirms it, then perhaps I should try it." As to the weather, there's a languid shrug. "Huh. Probably everyone decided it's better to stay indoors." Or at least, that would be this one man's hope — after all, people are better neither heard nor seen.

"Some of the shops did not even open today. Nor many of the smaller stalls. One of the runners told me that they were afraid thread might fall and strand them." Sara turns on her stomach so she can proper her head upon her hands, easier to look at the rider sitting upon his couch. "

"Huh." Agreement color his tone as A'lory lays aside the razor to fold his hands behind his back. "I suppose that's a reasonable worry." Squinting, he eyes the bit of sky showing through the weyr opening before returning his attention to Sara with raised eyebrows. "And how is the Bazaar, other than a rational fear of Thread?"

There is a pointed pause while Sara considers A'lory's question. In this pause she sits up and begins to take off those shoes to make it easier to inhabit the bed she has taken over. "Strained. Most of the refugees have decided that work is their ticket but some have proven more difficult. There have been recent thefts with the smaller stall keepers and those catering food having the worst of it."

A'lory frowns a little, swinging his feet off the couch — good thing he isn't wearing any boots — and prop bony elbows on bony knees. "That sounds like the start of trouble." Tilting his head,he rubs at the bridge of his nose. "Any plans on how to handle this before it gets out of control? Because it will, sooner or later."

Shoes are finally off and fall to the floor with little clunks. "Aye. A few. Cha'el, that new Weyrsecond came to tell me what the weyr has planned." The harper is careful to keep her face and voice one hundred perfect neutral. "In conjunction with the weyr they intend to raid the bazaar and pick up everyone who is causing trouble, force train them into ground crews, and drop them on the holders."
ns Is that the sound of A'lory planting his palm against his forehead in exasperation? Why yes, yes it is."Leaving the holders with angry people on their hands. Yep. That's a smart idea — we really want to piss the holders off now, when we need the tithes the most." With a sigh, he slouches back, closing his eyes. "They are fools if they think that's going to work out well. Complete and utter fools."

Sara's mask doesn't drop one little bit. "The weyrleadership agrees, I've been told Sadaiya included. And perhaps they have spoken to the holders who have asked for more ground-crew training." But Sara isn't looking at A'lory when she speaks, not that he would notice. "The weyrsecond has asked me to speak to the crafters and those who do not roll in the Steen circles to come on board."

"Somehow I rather doubt they have, to be perfectly honest with you. W'rin's not fond of actually researching before he does shit." And then he's opened his eyes to stare at Sara, disbelieving. "He what? I don't suppose he's stopped to consider the fact that your kn is a tenuous thing, being both and Oldtimer and a woman? Or does he just fail to realize how large the stakes are for you? Faranth, that man i so blind… "

"He seems to think that I can keep the craft out of it." Sara finally lifts her gaze up to her lover, worry now writ across it in the form of lines that were not there two turns before. "Perhaps he is right, and he has a point. There are those who would listen to me before they would someone from the weyr or Steens. And… something must be done. I'll assume you haven't been down to the terraces recently?"

A'lory shakes his head. "I don't think you will. Harpers hear quite a bit more than people realize — I may not have much knowledge of that Craft, but I DO know they gather every iota of rumor, gossip, and information they can, often from surprising sources." His brief smirk dares his beloved harper to deny it as he runs a hand through his tousled curls. "Oh, I agree, something has to be done — it can't go on like it has been. However, he's asking a bit much of you, I think — you don't know if this would be a craft-ender for you. And no, I haven't. I feel a bit guilty for that… I should be about there more than I have been."

A single braid captures Sara's attention and she plays with it, twining it around her fingers, as she doesn't attempt to deny what Harpers manage to hear. "It isn't a part of your responsibility any more A'lory. We've a weyrwoman who is competent and rumor has it that the weyrsecond has some close connection to the Steen's that no one is quite sure what it is. I have to do it. There's already been one fight and a murder that they believe is tied to the refugees."

A'lory sighs, softly. "Look, I'd rather you make some discreet contacts within the Craft, at least — so your own behind is covered. W'rin and Ch'el can't help you if it's found out from another source than you. Anyone within the Craft leadership that you trust? I mean, hell, they may think they can 'protect' you, but they can't. And they had damn well better have something for you that makes it worth the risk they're asking you to take. None of this 'loyalty to the Weyr' business, either, you hear me?" His voice is low and intense. "That kind of claptrap has cost people their lives before. Yeah, I did hear about there being a murder."

"I promise to only get in so far as would be safe." Sara's interest in that braid of hers does not wane one bit. "You've no fear that I'll put the weyr above my position in the craft or my personal safety. Amazing the things you learn in two short turns…" There is a sense of wistfulness in her final comment before she shakes her head and stands from the bed. "The Zingari, that caravan of traders, have been hit the worst. Three dead in the Keroon fall, one scoundral run away soon after, and now Ephraim dead. I'm suprised they've stuck around as long as they have."

A'lory clearly thinks none of it's safe — his fist clench briefly before he forces himself back to calm. "I'd kill him for asking it of you, only we can't afford to lose a dragon." And then he sighs, softly. "I know. I know. I just — damn it, Sara, I don't like this. What the hell? Don't they have other people they can be asking to do this?" Like, say, Peaston — who no one will miss if he gets knifed, for instance. "I'm interested to know if they've made any offer to you, or if they're just expecting you to do this out of the goodness of your lovely heart?" A Bitran always thinks of the profits, yes. Even a Bitran who dislikes the place.

"I assume they asked me and not others because I've no hidden agenda, and where say, Peaston might be kicked out the door once he offends someone, there's a chance that perhaps those smaller keepers might listen to me." A necklace is taken off and Sara places it upon the clothes chest. This done she turns back and leans against the chest itself, arms crossing across her chest. "He just asked me to talk and see if I can get others on board. Honestly, I'm less worried about my own safety than those who are about to be uprooted and dropped upon the holders."

A'lory snorts. "Suppose that's a reasonable point; Peaston's face is enough to offend me every time I see him." He wrinkles his nose a little, then decides to let his anger go long enoguh to ask, "How do you feel about this? Is it something you can honestly say is a good thing?"

A faint smile creases Sara's face as A'lory spits out the only reasonable reaction to her business partner, though it fades quickly. "I am of two minds. Something must be done- it would be better to not have any running around the bazaar with no good intentions. However… I am uneasy about these people being forced into labour. I feel like there is a better way, but I cannot see it."

"Mm - or being forced on holders who may not be willing or able to provide for them. What if they refuse to turn their hand to honest labor in a Hold, same as they do here? I wonder… " A'lory's thought are far away for a moment, then back in the here and now. "How many of thee people are purelyof the criminal bent? If they are, no amount of trying will force them try and turn honest. Perhaps they needs must remain locked up for the gd of society. I think that's a thing that must be found out, before they're let loose on society as a whole."

"I am afraid I do not know." Sara admits, a bit shamefully. Really, a harper ought to be up on this kind of thing. "The bazaar would cease to function if all of that which is wrong is rooted out. However, before now a majority of that has been kept tightly controlled by the older bazaar. These refugees stand outside of that control which is why it has become a problem."

"Oh, I don't mean along the lines of the Steens and their ilk," And here, A'lory is a bit dismissive. "Those wise old wherries know where the line is and don't trouble themselves to cross it. And oddly, there are benefits to a bit of well-controlled small crime. I mean, more along the lines of… " A pause, ruminating, before he continues," … uncontrolled looting and murdering. Now, if these trouble-makers were willing to come under the gentle guidance of the Steens or Lady Gritta, I wouldn't wonder quite so much, but they're not. Nobody's watching them."

"Which is why the old bazaar and the weyr want them gone." Sara sighs slightly and pushes away from the clothes dresser to walk across the weyr to the couch beside A'lory. "I've already begun to talk to some of my closest friends in the bazaar. Most seem in favor, especially those who have seen the biggest losses. At very least they'll point the raiders in the right direction."

A'lory nods slowly. "I suppose there really is no choice in getting rid of them. I just don't want to drop this little problem into the laps of the holders — they've enough to contend with, and don't need extra, potentially contentious mouths to feed. They won't look favorably on us for dropping this little problem on them. I can certainly understand forcing them to learn the skills of a ground crew — nothing in a Pass can be free — but no… they will need eyes at all times. Some kind of leash."

"The weyrsecond swears that the weyr will not drop these people and forget about them." Sara's voice is flat- perhaps she doesn't believe this particular promise. "Cha'el is not from Igen though, so I wonder if he really can follow through."

A'lory laughs softly. "I rather doubt our esteemed leadership can follow through on that particular promise." He tilts his head at her even as fingers idly curl around a braid, winding it gently aaround and around. "If it will help you, I can find out where they go and fly over myself. I am sure Trek is unlikely to disagree with that notion, just on principle. We rather have similar outlooks on Weyr responsibility, Trek and I."

"I would admit to feeling less unsure about it if Arroyo was watching." A'lory's offer brings out a relieved smile on Sara's face, some of those worry lines relaxing, a smile which only widens as he begins to play with her braid. Reaching one hand out she gently strokes his scruff. "Now… about that razor…."

A'lory chuckles. "I make no promises that Arroyo as a whole will do it — Trek, too, walks a fine line right now. I can personally do so in my own time, however. But I will definitely speak to her and see what she thinks of it. She may have solutions for you, one way or another." And then, Sara's reaching for his razor. With a look of mock alarm, he leans away. "You sure you know how to use one, sweetheart?"

"Now now, it would only hurt a little," Sara teases, though she doesn't actually finish reaching for that razor, instead allowing a finger to gently brush against the well entrenched scruff upon his cheeks. "But think of the possibilities if you actually used it."

A'lory begins to laugh softly. "Are you flirting with me, woman?" Not that he's resisting at all; indeed, he's trying to nibble on her fingers. "What are these possibilities, hmm?"

"Well, you see my dear bronze rider, I am not needed back at the shop for the rest of the evening, and it is much to cold to wander alone." Shifting her position upon the couch Sara leans forwards to brush a kiss right where her fingers had touched his cheek.

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