Who

Willimina, Tallel, Javid, Aztrexia, Igraine

What

Igraine makes a BIG BIG BIG change in her life and finds she has much support.

When

-- On Pern --
It is 6:38 PM where you are.
It is evening of the twenty-eighth day of the sixth month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.
In Igen:
It is the twenty-eighth day of Summer and 110 degrees. It is hot. Hot, hot, hot. Rukbat bakes the desert.

Where

Caravan Grounds, Willimina and Tallel's Yurt, Crater Lake; Igen Weyr

OOC Date 17 Nov 2017 07:00

 

Willa_19.jpg Tallel22.jpg Javid9.jpg Aztrexia_1.jpg Igraine1.jpg

“So tonight you choose to leave the shadows, cousin.”


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Caravan Grounds; Willimina and Tallel's Yurt

Unlike the outside of this dwelling, the inside of this round tent puts the bolder, more flamboyant side of Tallel's Zingari roots on display, though it's now been augmented by all that the rest of his family brings to it. While simple in layout, there is nothing simple at all about the intricate weave of the rugs thrown down upon the light, portable wooden slat-work spanning collapsible frames. Deep wine red is the most commonly found hue, though gold, green, and silver are found as well in the hangings that drape the tent walls at even intervals. A low, wide table to the left of the hanging door serves as Tallel's primary workspace for grinding herbs and mixing medicines, while another one further off to the right - round, this time - is laden with wood and steel serving ware and makes up a small dining area. Cushions lay around the yurt in abundance for sitting, the largest pile of which obscures the low mattress on which he and Willimina sleep. Nearby, a couple of folding dividers fashioned of woven reeds and silk partition off the beds their children sleep in. A few braziers for incense and candles, as well as some round red glowbaskets, hang about the ceiling, which tapers up to a vent that can be shut against the weather but is wide enough to give a nice view of the night sky in the evenings.



It’s a hot, sweltering evening in Igen weyr and not even a breeze stirs through the crags to provide even the most minimal of relief. Most have fled indoors to the caves of the weyr to escape the heat, and those on the caravan grounds have escaped into their wagons or yurts, performances canceled for the night for fear of the risk of heat stroke across the board. Most have gone to bed early or are trying desperately to cool off.

Willimina hides in the confines of the yurt she shares with her husband. She’s let the nannies take the children to the lake to play in the water for a bit while she and Tallel try to cool off and finish the evening’s tasks. While performances have been cancelled, Willimina still has a mound of hidework to attend to and she knows Tallel has been working on putting lesson plans together for his shared classes with Aztrexia, something Willimina isn’t exactly comfortable with, but is biting her tongue over because it’s a good idea, and because after tonight the job will permanently be Aztrexia’s. Willimina looks over the note from Igraine now, one that announces a wish to meet with Willa and Tallel, to retire from the spy life in person before moving on with the road she wants to take with her life. Willimina does not begrudge the woman one bit, after all, the right to choose is something she and Tallel have fought very hard for.

Said soon to be ex-spy wanders her yurt, eating away the time before her meeting with her leaders and spymaster. Igraine is nervous, pacing the length of her yurt in spurts as she tries to get together what she might say to her leaders. For so long Igraine has led a split life, that the idea of not having to anymore, is almost as terrifying as continuing as she is. Soon now….very soon. She looks at the candle meant for marking the hours. About a quarter-candlemark left…very soon.

“Stop pacing; I can hear you from out here!” That comes from Javid as he walks past Igraine’s yurt on his way to that of his leaders, his mood carrying a jocular edge this evening for some reason. He can’t really hear her pacing, but he knows her well enough that he can imagine what’s going on in there.

The amber-eyed spymaster comes to a halt at the threshold of the yurt and raps on the doorframe to request entrance, regardless of whether the door is open or not.

Tallel is busy grinding away at herbs, working to restock some basic medicines - a seemingly never-ending task. He’s in need of a short break, however, so Javid’s knock provides a welcome opportunity. Rising, he wipes off his hands on a nearby towel and moves to the door. “Come on in, Javid,” he tells the other man with a grin, and moves to fetch him some cold water while he greets Willimina.

Willimina looks up at Javid’s knock and Tallel’s subsequent allowance for entry. “Good evening Javid, nice to see you haven’t melted into the sand like the rest of the desert.” Because it is hot, which is why Willimina is dressed a bit more casually than she would be normally. She wears one of the light, breezy, flowing pairs of trousers that desert dwellers seem to favor, with a dancer’s top, leaving much more to the open gaze than to the imagination. She stands when Javid enters and moves to greet him, a sad sort of smile on her lips. “Seems it’s to be a night of big announcements, eh?” Willimina cocks a brow and as soon as she’s finished greeting Javid she’ll move to pour some drinks. “Can I get you anything Javid?”

Igraine’s nervous laughter follows after Javid as she goes about finalising what she has to say in her head. She’d like to see anyone not pace when making such life altering decisions as she makes tonight. Oh she doesn’t regret a single one of the things she’s decided to do, but leaping from a life of order and espionage into one of romance and domesticity and healing is about as terrifying and unknown as the results of jumping off a cliff into water where one is unsure if there are rocks below or not. It’s a leap of faith, and one Igraine both joyously and cautiously takes. Finally, she really can’t dawdle around anymore and she’s sure she’ll be alright if she’s a few moments early, after all, Javid is already ahead of her. She closes off the brazier in her yurt, and closes the glowbaskets, hand tapping against her thigh as she inhales the apothecary like scent of her home deeply, and steps out into the torrid evening and towards Willa and Tallel’s yurt, where she too, will rap lightly on the doorframe.

“Oh, I think your husband has me taken care of,” Javid notes with a chuckle, accepting the small skin of cold water Tallel hands him with a grateful dip of his head. “These summer nights make me want alcohol less.” The confession is made with some chagrin; he’s all for a good whiskey, but sometimes the heat of the booze just makes the heat of the air just seem even greater, and this is one of those evenings where he doesn’t particularly want to deal with it.

He hums agreement to Willimina’s last, swallowing some water and opening his mouth to comment just as Igraine’s knock comes at the entrance to the yurt.

“Too bad I was going for tea then?” Willimina says with a chuckle and a quirky smile. The heat hasn’t drained her sense of humor at least. Javid would find Willimina of the same mind on the thought of heat and booze being a bad mixture. She is pouring tea as Igraine’s knock comes to the doorframe. “Come in Igraine.” Willimina greets calmly, for it really can’t be anyone else, saving maybe… Willimina looks at Javid, and then to Igraine as she is entering the yurt. “Will Aztrexia be joining us this evening?” She hadn’t thought to ask when correspondences were exchanged earlier in the day. “Tea, Igraine?”

Igraine shrugs at the first question aimed her way as she enters the door and looks at Javid, an eyebrow raising. To the second, she looks at Willimina with a grateful smile on her lips “I would love some tea Willa, thank you.” Igraine turns to the rest of the room and snaps off a semi-serious salute. “Good evening Tallel, Javid.”

Javid chuckles softly in turn, giving a little shake of his head before he watches Igraine enter. He ticks off a little salute of his own before Willimina’s next question register, and he blinks, caught slightly off guard. “Aztrexia will be with the rest of the spies for what happens after this…which you are welcome to witness if you wish, Willa,” he says. “But I was not certain whether you would…want her here.” In their home, regardless of whether or not it’s sometimes used in an official capacity or not.

Tallel glances back at his wife in the wake of this, a dark brow quirked curiously. He’s bound to be a little more a relaxed about the prospect than Willa is, of course…but in such a matter, he’s much more inclined to defer to what she’d be comfortable with.

Willimina is a bit taciturn when it comes to Aztrexia, she is amazed and uncomfortable with the woman in waves. She nods at what Javid has to say in response and pours Igraine a tea. “I only ask because I wonder if she’s aware of the promotion she’s receiving, or if we are keeping that a secret for some reason?” Though Willimina still has days where she wishes she could just be rid of Aztrexia, the last reminder of the war with the Elders, she has definitely hit the point where if she were to keep denying things to the woman, it’d be out of spite. And Willa tries not to be spiteful, no matter how she might feel about someone. All attributed to the good influence her husband has on her temper.

Igraine moves over to take the tea Willimina pours with extra thanks, lifting the cool liquid to her lips for a drink. “I haven’t said anything to her, considering I didn’t know how you would react to the suggestion she take over until this morning.” Igraine sips again before heaving a sigh. “I must admit I am nervous about all this, but excited too…” Igraine looks around at Willimina, Tallel and Javid with a soft sort of smile, quite at odds with the other side of her personality. “I guess I should say it out loud, however, make it official?” There’s emotion behind Igraine’s eyes, because she knows some part of her will always miss the espionage, will miss the chance to solve the mysteries of their world, but there are mysteries in healing too, and other things she wishes to explore, beyond what such a secretive life as a spy provides.

“She’s had…hints,” Javid says of Aztrexia knowing about her impending promotion. “Though I’m not sure how seriously she has taken them. I’m sure she has understood something is going on considering her increase in responsibility; she’s shrewd enough to have it figured out. But I thought a small shock might do her some good.” He tries not to look too pleased with himself for that. Judging by this, he likely means for Igraine to do the passing of her own torch this evening.

When Igraine sends that soft-edged smile his way, he smirks, quirking a dark brow at his soon-to-be-erstwhile adept. “It is why you are here, is it not?” No, he’s not going to refrain from being a pain just because it’s official business. At least he’s subtle about it.

“Oh she definitely knows something is going on, that woman of yours, she’s smart….even if her past decisions were not so much.” Igraine sips at her tea and heaves another sigh. “Right. Well then,” She turns to Willimina, giving a respectful bow. “It is here and now that I am officially taking my leave from your spy service Willimina, Javid.” Igraine turns and bows to Javid too. “It has been an honor, and one hell of an adventure, serving under you, and S’ayde of course. I’ll never forget it….but there comes a time in life when we all just need …more. And the more I need is not in work.. I am of course staying on with the Caravan, just in the lesser capacities of Healer and Escort.”

Willimina approves of Igraine not having mentioned anything to Aztrexia without knowing how Willimina would feel about it. Javid’s trick on his lover earns him a sideways look of amusement, though Igraine gets a bit of shocked look when Igraine acknowledges Aztrexia as Javid’s. “Telling people now are we?” She asks. “Are you sure that’s wise?” Igraine’s retirement announcement is listened to, and nodded at, Willimina showing both happiness for Igraine, and sadness that she’ll be losing such an adept spy. “Of course, not all of us stick to one calling our whole lives. It’s perfectly understandable, though we are sorry to lose you in this way. Healing, however, should not be considered a lesser capacity, it’s just as important as anything else you’ve provided in the past.”

“Only one person. Who has been like a canine with a bone and a pain in my ass about it from the start, but a trusted one nonetheless,” Javid answers Willimina evenly, a dark brow quirked faintly with quiet humor before listening along with his leaders to Igraine’s words, inclining his head in acknowledgement as the caravan leader answers. There is, however, a silent query in the lift of his brows at her very last - escort. He’d rather thought that might not factor in anymore, either…though perhaps he’d been mistaken.

“It’ll be good to see more of you in the healer’s tent, Igraine,” Tallel notes with a grin. “You always were a good, steady hand.” Even though it wasn’t her primary focus.

“Your official resignation is heard and witnessed, Igraine,” Javid says, “and as spymaster I official accept it. However, the shadows you’ve been a part of for so long wish to see you off as well. Come to the southern shore of the Crater Lake a candlemark before midnight.” Looking to Willa and Tallel, he adds, “You are welcome to join us, my leaders. My only request is that you dress as one of us, if you do.” Ceremony for this, it seems, is something Javid is keen on observing.

Igraine laughs at Javid's response to Willimina, because she had been a pain in Javid's ass, but hey, if he'd admitted it from the start, maybe she wouldn't have been so annoying. To this point, she smirks at Javid. "I made a good spy for a reason Javid…" She drops a wink t the man and grins as he accepts her formal exit speech and sips at her tea. To Javid's silent query, she merely lifts her own eyebrows in response. What? Tallel receives a grin. "It will be nice to be back to my roots." She nods at Javid's request that she appear at the Crater near midnight. She's excited to see what her fellows have planned.

Willimina takes Igraine's resignation with a smile and moves forward to give the woman a hug. "Well, that's that then, and your resignation is duly heard, witnessed and accepted." To Javid, Willimina nods. "It would be an honor, I'd love to attend….after a bath and a change perhaps." After all, midnight is a few candlemarks away yet. And being a dancer and a leader, Willimina can most certainly understand standing on ceremony.

“Same here,” Tallel agrees, taking Willimina’s hand. “Though we’ll have to see about Timo or the nannies keeping an eye out for a bit.” Since the children will be in bed by then, of course.

Javid nods to both leaders, smiling at Igraine afterward. “I’ll see you there, then. Willimina, Tallel.” He bows to them both. “I’ll take my leave to make some preparations, if I may.”

“I doubt we’ll have to needle TImo too much to keep an ear on the children, and Lillia is certainly old enough to watch over her siblings.” The girl would be thirteen seen enough…and then her training would really begin. Willimina smiles and turns back to Igraine and Javid, nodding to the spymaster as he excuses himself to go make preparations. “Of course, we’ll see you later this evening then Javid.” Turning to Igraine, Willimina sneaks in one last hug. “Seems like you have some preparing to do as well, why don’t you get going too then?” Willimina grins, mind already planning the bath she will take before all else.

Igraine gives a slight bow to both of her leaders, intending to excuse herself as well, but Willa wraps her in a hug first and basically does it for her. “I do, and I shall. Thank you all for being so understanding about everything.” She’ll reach out to clasp arms with Javid before she slips from the yurt, moving to return to her own. She needs to meditate, and prepare herself, because even though she’s moving forward, towards love, and a life she desperately wants; and even though she isn’t really going anywhere, it feels like she’s leaving a bit of family behind.


Crater Lake


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Four centuries ago, a chunk of the very comet that drove some Old-timers forward crashed to the desert near Igen Weyr, collapsing the original inner caverns and breaking through to a new spring that now feeds into Igen's underground aquifer. The result? Beauty from destruction - a long, crystalline lake of brilliant sapphire blue. Sharp sandstone rings the water in jagged peaks, where sparse desert shrubs cling to steep, sandy slopes and reflect darkly on the pristine, mirror-like surface. Out in the midst of the lake, a small island pierces the glassy plane, umber from azure in a near-perfect cone. A startling break in the stark desert and savannah surrounding the Weyr, the crater lake sits like a jewel in the rough - a picturesque, inviting respite from the rough, dry terrain beyond.


Sunset eventually comes, fades into twilight, and twilight slipping into the deep black of night. It’s still very warm, the heat making the stars twinkle dramatically high above the desert. The moons have risen, reflected brilliantly in the rippling mirror of the Crater Lake. A candlemark before midnight, Javid stands alone - or what seems to be alone - on the southern shore above the rocky rim of the lake. He is dressed completely in black - boots, pants, sash, vest, and a flowing robe trimmed with dark emerald and silver thread at the very edges. As still as the shadows of the world around him, he waits, hands clasped at his back, his robe shifting subtly around his legs in the light breeze and amber eyes glinting in the darkness as they watch toward the Weyr pass road.

Movement on the road comes soon enough, the leading pair make g their way towards the ceremony, their shadowy movements animated, as if they speak excitedly to one another. It's probably just another one of those really good conversations that couples seem to have.

Igraine isn't coming by way of the road, slipping from shadow to shadow with a familiar ease. She melts into the night as a proper spy should, her uniform blending her into the shadows with ease. Tonight would be the last time she donned this garb, the last time she slips from shadow to shadow on an order/request from Javid. Tonight would be the last time she stands amongst the spies of the Zingari as an adept. She sticks to the shadows until terrain forces her into the open, Timor and Belior’s light making the space in front of the lake feel too open. Igraine's cloak billows behind her, it's hood up and it's scarf covering her face, leaving only her eyes exposed. She approaches Javid her hands swinging slightly at her sides as she moves forward.

Aztrexia waits with the rest, as still and silent as the sky above. She too, is dressed in the black uniform of the spies, though a white band circles her upper arm, labelling her a probate, something that grates her nerves raw. She'd been one of the youngest ever to receive and adepts knot… And it aches not having that knot on her shoulder now. She watches Javid from her post, eyes riveted for the signal.

Javid remains where he is, as he is, for a short time longer, watching Willimina and Tallel approach and then motioning for them to come stand with him. Tallel finishes anything he has to say in whispers as he takes up his spot just back from the spymaster’s left shoulder; it just seems appropriate now, when the only other sounds to be heard are those of the night and the faint hissing of the breeze over rock and sand.

The amber-eyed man catches quick flickers of movement in the shadows that untrained eyes wouldn’t normally see, or else wouldn’t attribute to someone’s presence. He smiles, knowing it must be Igraine. Of course she wouldn’t just walk up for this. But eventually she is forced to, the shadows of the surrounding terrain terminating in a wide berth around him.

“So tonight you choose to leave the shadows, cousin,” he intones as Igraine approaches. “A choice not lightly made, a release not lightly given. But the night is not unending, and for some, the day beckons more irresistibly in the end. Come.” He lifts his hands into plain view, two fingers on each twitching in a subtle beckoning gesture, and the shadows around them begin to shift. The Zingari spies take shape from the darkness on silent feet, forming rings around Igraine and their leaders, the cloaks of the adepts rippling quietly closer in while the spylings stand as slimmer, unshrouded phantoms on the outskirts. “Let us see you as we first knew you, Igraine of the Kheeriin.”

Willimina takes a place behind Javid’s right shoulder, so that he is flanked by both leaders. She stares out at the emptiness, and then at Igraine’s figure traversing the sands. It’s always just a little unsettling, how well her spies meld in and out of the shadows, and now is no different as they come spilling from the shadows surrounding the crater.

Aztrexia wears the uniform of an adept, but her head remains unshrouded and the white band on her arm glares silver in the light of Timor and Belior. She stands between the adepts and spylings, a part, and not. At least no one seems to begrudge her presence this night. It sort of has her wondering why, a lot of rather odd things that have her wondering why have been happening lately. And with Igraine leaving, and her teaching more classes, and several with Tallel, Aztrexia is wondering who will fully take Igraine’s place after this, and if whatever adept replaces Igraine will put up with sharing teaching responsibilities with Trexa.

Igraine already has a lump in her throat upon approaching, Javid’s words and the sudden rush of black-clad adepts and spylings has Igraine filled with emotions she might not even be able to explain later. It is as if being surrounded by a loving family, one that sees you off to the next adventure in life. Igraine of the Kheeriin. She has not been addressed thusly in such a very long time, the title almost seems foreign. Reaching up, she removes her hood and scarf, baring her face to the congregation of spies, face blank of inner turmoil, saving a slight brightness to her eyes. “Here I am then, Igraine of the Kheeriin, bare to you as you first knew me, yet older….and a hell of a lot wiser..” She says, voice slightly tight, a cocky smile lifting her lips as she introduces humor to the situation, knowing her comrades will appreciate it, if anything.

Indeed, a ripple of soft chuckling can be heard in the wake of Igraine’s words, a burbling of water over stones in a brook that is there and gone. “Some might contend that,” Javid utters drolly, and the ripple ebbs and flows once more. He comes a step closer, his hands free at his sides. “We see you, cousin, clear in the moonlight. Walk in it without fear, for it is as much a friend to you now as the shadows always will be. I charge you take the skills you have learned and keep their origin locked away in your heart, but never forget them…for we shall not forget your time among us as a protector of the Zingari, wearing the mask of night.”

A hand moves to his sash and comes away with a dark parcel, something relatively flat and long, hard in the center, hidden in a black velvet bag. This he gives to her, but holds up a hand as he steps back. “One final order I give you, Igraine: be still, and listen.”

The spies around them begin to move again, spiraling in closer as they approach her, one by one. Some offer only a clasp of arms, others adding a whispered goodbye or other well-wish, or a nod, any closer to her perhaps offering an embrace before passing silently by and returning to where they’d stood before.

Igraine relaxes a bit after the ripple of laughter and Javid’s reply. In fact, her whole frame seems to relax, well, as much as a spy ever does anyhow. Javid’s words bring that tightness back to her throat however, and she accepts his gift with a nod, glad almost, for the order to be still and listen. Greeting her fellows one by one, getting to say a personal goodbye, it means worlds to Igraine, who taught many of them before they gained their knots, who slunk the shadows with her comrades in the night to complete this mission or that. It creates a tightknit brotherhood, an organization such as this.

Aztrexia moves with the spies, being the direct line between when the adepts end and the spylings begin. She chews a bit nervously on her inner cheek, outer features stoic as she moves up in the line. When she finally does reach the front of the line, she takes a breath before stepping forward to offer her arm to Igraine, and steels her spine against the collective stare that happens as a result.

Willimina moves when the spies begin their goodbyes with Igraine. It’ll be a good moment before the lot of them get through it and now is perfect timing for Willimina to give Javid news she’s been debating about all day, but ultimately has decided to act upon. She places a hand on the Spymaster’s bicep and clears her throat softly. “Might I have a word, Javid?”

Igraine stares at Aztrexia for a moment, coffee colored eyes sweeping over the girl with a hard, undecided look. It almost seems as if the woman might reject contact with Aztrexia, but, after a tense few seconds, she takes her arm firmly, and pulls her into a hug, hand slapping mightily at Aztrexia’s back. Igraine puts her lips ever so close to Trexa’s ear, her voice so low it most definitely will not carry to where anyone else will hear it. “Despite an early dislike of you girl, I believe in you. You can do this.” Igraine hugs a little tighter. “Oh…also, if you hurt him, I swear to the first egg that any punishment Willa handed down will seem like a holiday compared to the tortures I will rain down on you. Clear?” Igraine doesn’t even wait to hear Trexa’s answer before plastering a smile on her lips and turning Trexa to face the spylings. “With that, and I’m sorry, I have to break silence here, I have another announcement to make, Aztrexia will be taking over my classes full time. She has proven quite adept at teaching and I feel quite comfortable leaving you all in her very capable hands.” See, Igraine can help with things too!

There are many of them, and it isn’t often Javid gets to witness nearly all of those he oversees in one place like this. He stands watching quietly as the spies make their way to Igraine, though hears Willimina when she initially moves and therefore doesn’t startle when she touches his arm. “Of course,” he murmurs…and suddenly Igraine is speaking, the flow of dark figures halted and wavering for just a moment as the departing adept makes her announcement. “Contrary to the last, aren’t you?” he quips in the wake of her announcement, his body mostly turned to Willa even though he looks her way. He spares a moment to observe Aztrexia’s reaction before giving his caravan leader his undivided attention.

Tallel, meanwhile, observes amusedly, though hovers close enough to hear the exchange between his wife and their spymaster.

Aztrexia is relieved when Igraine clasps arms with her, thrilled when she’s pulled into the hug and gobsmacked when she expresses belief in her. However, the pointed threat about Javid, she assumes, has her hazel eyes widening to saucers, though she has those well in hand by the time Igraine begins to spin her around. She’s not quite sure how to feel about the threat, so keeps it locked away for now, letting her surprise and shock show at being given full reign over the spyling classes Igraine taught. Most of her younger students look absolutely thrilled, which bolsters Trexa’s joy. Well then…. That had been unexpected. She hadn’t thought she’d be allowed full reign on a class for a long, long time. She moves away to let the spylings say their farewells, head whirling with both the news and Igraine’s words.

Igraine smiles and pats Aztrexia on the back before moving back to greeting Spylings. “Always!” Is her retort to Javid, a wink sent his direction.

Willimina chuckles and shakes her head at Igraine’s antics, nodding approval at the announcement made. Change is good. Change means moving forward….and if Willa is to move forward, to change, then changing how she does things comes right along with it. She lowers her voice, Tallel might hear, but no one else, hopefully, or the surprise will be ruined. “I have but something quite simple to say Javid, and I hope you’ll agree with me, though I doubt I’ll get much resistance from you on the matter.” Willimina’s trousers boast pockets, thank Faranth, and she goes digging in one now. She brings out her fist and presents it to Javid, uncurling her fingers slowly. She jerks her head in Aztrexia’s direction just as an adept’s knot comes into view in her palm. “I think it’s high time we give this back, don’t you?” Willimina moves then, to give the knot to Javid, “And I think you ought to give it to her.”

Javid really couldn’t have hoped for a better reaction from Aztrexia, and is glad that Igraine was the one to pass the torch rather than him. But then he finds that it’s his turn to end up surprised. Promotions to adept are something Willimina can reserve the right to make rather than him, if she wishes, and he’d known from the start that Aztrexia receiving her knot back would be something he’d leave to the caravan leader. Even so, it comes as a bit of a shock to have Willa return it now.

The spymaster studies the dark-eyed woman’s face, making completely certain that he is understanding correctly. Presently, he gives a nod. “I do. But…would you rather not?” He’s not going to turn down the opportunity to return Aztrexia’s knot himself, but he does wonder a bit why Willa would rather he be the one and not her.

Willimina raises a hand when Javid queries about whether or not she’d like to reinstate Aztrexia’s rank. “In all honesty Javid, I am still working through my own issues regarding the girl…I am comfortable allowing her to have this back, but it will mean more, to her, if it comes from you.” Willimina looks over to Igraine, then over to where Aztrexia has removed herself. “I am trying Javid, I’m just not where I can tolerate her for long yet. She makes me nervous…” Or maybe it’s just the idea of what could have happened that makes Willimina nervous. She looks back at Javid, chocolate eyes sturdy and solid in their conviction. “You are not made nervous by her, and Tallel and I can tell that you care deeply for her.” Willimina’s voice lowers more at this point, and she avoids the word love out of respect. “And so, the job falls to you, besides, it’s you she’ll worship for it…you’re welcome.” And with a quirky little smile, Willimina moves to rejoin Tallel, slipping an arm in with his as she watches the rest of the small ceremony play out.

Javid nods subtly to Willimina’s reasoning, concealing the knot in a pouch beneath his sash. “For what it is worth, Willimina,” he murmurs for her ears alone, “I understand. But I can assure you…you need not be.” And there is much more he could say to elaborate, but here and now is not the place for it, nor will it necessarily make a difference in speeding Willa’s further acceptance of Aztrexia no matter how deeply he knows his words to be true.

He looks a bit perplexed at his caravan leader’s wording, wishing nothing of the sort from Aztrexia…but it’s something he’ll ponder later. It may be as simple as something she can’t help but say for the moment. He glances to Tallel, who gives him a nod with a smirk besides as he brings Willimina in to his side. They’ll likely be meeting for a drink again tomorrow, so if there’s anything more to be said on the matter between the two men, it will come out then.

Javid resumes his position and watches the rest of the spylings pass by Igraine, stepping forward again when the woman stands alone once more. “Know you will always have us, though we may no longer have you,” he says, tilting his head briefly toward the gift he’d given and placing his hands on her shoulders. “Go now with our most heartfelt wishes, Igraine of the Kheeriin. We will greet you beyond the shadows from this night onward.” He embraces her tightly and then releases her, stepping back as the ringed ranks of the Zingari spies part to grant her a clear path toward the road.

When she takes a moment to open the black velvet parcel she was given, she will find a very unique knife in a hardened wherhide sheath that would fit upon her forearm or calf with equal ease. The handle is silver wrapped in deep black leather, the blade full-tang…and a wicked talon wrought of carefully napped obsidian. It is as razor sharp and deadly as any metal blade, though comparatively fragile, black as the deepest night and shining like the waters of the Crater Lake beneath the midnight sky.

Igraine will look in the pouch later, for now, she is trying to find a way to swallow the bittersweet lump rising in her throat. She embraces Javid back before stepping away. For once, the woman has no words. It really had been a sweet thing for all of them to do, seeing her off like this. And, there are just some forms of ceremony that get the feels going, and this is definitely one of them. She looks at the pathway cleared for her, a wall of black clad adepts on either side. She takes a deep breath and begins moving down them. Small things are murmured again, to and from Igraine as she moves down. When she gets to the end of them she stops, a weight lifting off her shoulders. She can’t wait to tell A’lira, and she can feel Milosh’s gaze on her from the sea of black. Smiling and shaking her head she moves once more before stopping just a few yards away.

She actually does have one last thing to say, since she won’t be able to do what she wants until tomorrow anyhow. She looks over her shoulder, now that all the pomp is done with. “If you’re not on duty, you’re welcome to come by for a drink.” That said, she actually takes off this time, melting into the shadows out of habit on her way home.

Willimina watches Igraine go, chortling softly when anyone not on duty is invited for a drink. This had not been as serious a ceremony as she had expected, though she is most certain that had more to do with Igraine’s particular brand of cheek than the actual proceedings themselves. Leaning in to whisper in Tallel’s ear, she iterates a wish to head home. As tempting as a friendly drink with other adults sounds, there are other things she’d rather be doing instead. She’ll even slips from Tallel’s embrace to say her goodbyes to Javid and those around, congratulating them on how nice the event had been. She eventually comes abreast of Aztrexia, chocolate eyes meeting hazel ones with a cautious light. “Congratulations. I think you’ll fit the role of teacher well. Enjoy your new place amongst us.” Willimina’s words are exactly as congratulatory as they need to be, but they hold a bit of a secretive edge and the Zingari leader smiles tensely before moving on and towards the road and her home.

Twice in one night Aztrexia is shocked. Once to hear she is to have her own classes to teach, taking over Igraine’s permanently, and the second when Willimina approaches her. The leader’s tone leaves Aztrexia staring after her with a confused and cryptic set of features on her lovely face. What exactly had that meant? Shrugging, she looks around, watching as Willimina leaves and the spylings begin the chatter in a low murmur of voices. A few cheers given at the invite to Igraine’s, but Aztrexia will be doing her celebrating at home in her yurt, possibly with the company of a certain Spymaster….if he can get away tonight.

Javid’s eyes remain on Igraine as she moves away, though he can’t help a shake of his head and a chuckle in the wake of her last. The spies disperse, a few walking back up the road while most return by way of the shadows from whence they’d come. He observes Willimina’s interaction with Aztrexia in his periphery as he crosses to the shadow of a great boulder, leading his mount from where he’d been waiting with quiet patience - probably dozing most of the time.

The spymaster watches Willimina and Tallel departing for a long moment as well before turning to Aztrexia, a quiet smile on his face beneath the knowing glint of amber eyes as he offers her a hand up to mount into the saddle. Being outside the Weyr walls, he does still technically have to accompany her…though that has long since ceased to be anything near a burden. In silence, he affirms that he does mean to be that company for her tonight, though for more than one reason. The evening’s surprises and ceremonies are not yet done for him.

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