Who

Clementine, T'zaim

What

Lots of slap-fights.

When

It is evening of the twenty-fifth day of the twelfth month of the ninth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Fields, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 21 Jan 2017 08:00

 

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Fields

Terraced over the rolling mountains of Southern's wilds, crops fight against the encroaching jungle that must be held at bay by diligent farmers. Guards are stationed at intervals across the hills, where the trees growth is thick enough to allow the lurking predator to hide. It's not Thread that threatens the luscious crops that cling to the side of the mountain, it's the felines and wherries larger than life that would partake of the feast that awaits the courageous. Each terrace lays claim to a large swathe of arable land; the fields themselves cover a vast portion of the hilly slopes. To cross the fields, from one end to the other, without runner or wagon, would take several candlemarks.


While 108 degrees is pretty fucking hot, it's not nearly as hot as it can get around here sometimes. On this sunny, bright afternoon, Clementine has ventured beyond the walls of the weyr to where the framcraft has staked out land to do their farmcraft-y stuff at. Nemekhath rests nearby, careful not to crush any corn or green beans with her big ass body. A distance from the gold is where the Weyrwoman has been meeting with a couple of members from the Farmcraft and Herders, respectively. It seems they're just about wrapping up, with Clem crouched down next to a hole in the ground. There's two containers of clear liquid and some cups of what looks like mud. She's not looking exactly thrilled at the moment.

T'zaim has been burning the candle at both ends for a while now - and doing so on minimal sustenance, since he had NO FOODZ FOR DAYS - and today isn't the day when he finally gets to chillax, unfortunately. Right now, he's trekking across these fields with a couple of the Wingleaders in tow, deliberately aiming toward Clementine and the cluster of crafters with her, saying, "You see, they're working on the problem right now. My suggestion would be that you aim your questions at these fine men and women, because I honestly do not know the answers." His crew hang on the fringes of Clementine's crew, waiting only for introductions so they can pounce on these crafters and demand answers!

He could have had salad or some fish or something! Clementine looks up just in time to see a cluster of annoyed dragonriders heading towards her and the crafters. There's a faint lift of her eyebrows while she listens to T'zaim's exasperation bleed through. She waves her hands at the nervous looking crafters. "Wingleaders, meet Master Herder Tarrent and Master Farmer Grissom. I expect you're looking to extend your services to them. They're going to need lots of soil samples." There's an underlying tone of: Don't Be Assholes - one that's underscored by Nemekhath's friendly yet loud rumble over there. With that, she'll leave all of those people to hopefully not kill each other. "Would you like to discuss mud with me?" This is to T'zaim, of course.

T'zaim's entourage have a laundry list of immediate concerns, so at least these fancy Masters will have plenty to think about. T'zaim himself is super-glad to pawn them off on someone else, taking a step back… then another… then one more before he's confident that they won't re-attach, and - squinting against Clementine's question and the sun both - he hemmms. "It's not on my top-ten list of conversational topics, but okay. Specific mud, or just the general properties thereof?"

"More in a general fashion." The crafters are engaging the Wingleaders and also… pulling out some complicated looking maps with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one. She remains crouched on the ground for a moment longer before standing and stretching out. "They're talking about testing the pH level in the soil around the weyr, around the holds and then into the surrounding outskirts to see if there's an difference there. And I guess, to see how far the spread of the damaged grubs actually is. I've been told there's a method." She waves to the two animated, fancy Masters.

"Kh'nam should be getting out his own map any moment now. He insists Tigris can't do anymore additional sweeps because his entire Wing is deployed tracking the perimeter of the problem," says T'zaim, like he's heard this argument a bajillion times already. Right on cue, Kh'nam gets out his own map and starts trying to bend all the ears to his message. "Part of me can't help but hope that it comes to blows. But, then, I've been very hungry lately and it's making me a little crabby." He looks some daggers at Clementine. Sharp ones.

"Oh, I hope it doesn't come to blows." Clementine comments with a little sigh. "I don't think Grissom is really meant for physical altercations." The poor man, he looks baffled when another map starts getting bandied about. Tarrent looks more annoyed, pulls out a magnifying glass and proceeds to make a variety of interesting gestures. She press her lips together, looks pained and turns back onto the starving T'zaim. "Are you?" She looks SUPER CONFUSED by that. Even though she must know that he knows, that it was her. "You should get something to eat." FAKE innocence as she begins to just slide on past him, surpressing mild amusement at his discomfort. Did she want to talk about mud? NEVERMIND.

Now just imagine them all having an amazing slap-fight. That's what T'zaim is doing, now that he's withdrawn enough that there's no chance he's going to get sucked back into the conversation somehow. He's still imagining this, as a matter of fact, when he answers Clementine's o:) innocence with a distracted-sounding, "I should, but I've decided to arrest everyone that won't give me a sandwich. I imagine you'll be hearing complaints about how full the brig is any minute now."

"No, you haven't. You're too busy to manage that level of vindictiveness." Clementine doesn't believe him, probably because she just witnessed him barely managing to throw off a pack of Wingleaders. From the background 'what do you mean you won't collect me grubs from Lemos?!?!'.

"On the contrary, now that I can't actually sit down to a decent meal, I have copious amounts of free time to spare." He makes some walking gestures through the air when the volume starts to rise on that conversation, brows lifted to a questioning level: is this where T'zaim and Clementine should escape? "Before anyone thinks to appeal to us as higher authorities," in a low voice.

"Oh, you're being dramatic, it's not as if you couldn't eat anything." The man just couldn't eat any of the things he likes to eat. There's a difference between that and outright starvation! Clementine is fine abandoning the jars of mud and the arguing men, taking T'zaim's arm and giving it a gentle tug. "Yes." Time to just move along and away from that particular brand of fun. "Anyway, I lifted the sandwich ban yesterday. So you don't have to go around arreting innocent people."

T'zaim is quick to note, "I get very distressed when my routine gets interrupted." So, probably, he's eaten as little as possible since he couldn't get toast and sammiches. :( He very firmly turns his back on the conversation, even when the first inklings of 'well let's ask the Weyrwoman' starts up; he walks faster, ushering Clementine to do the same. "I won't? Well, it was fun while it lasted, I suppose. And it saves you the trouble of pardoning all of them."

"Mmhmm." And yet, T'zaim is still alive somehow! There's no argument from Clementine when the ushering begins, she's had her share of grub conversations to last the rest of the night, for sure. "I'd probably just ask D'cen to go down there and take care of it." Now, whether or not he'd actually do it is probably up for debate.

T'zaim, approvingly, "They say a good leader always knows when to delegate. That makes you the best leader ever, I'm pretty sure."

Clementine elbows T'zaim because 'best leader ever, I'm pretty sure' sounds kind of like sarcasm. And the best leaders ever won't and can't tolerate that sort of thing, damnit. Also they're beyond where the other important people can see them abuse each other.

"Hitting!" T'zaim begins, rubbing his elbowed-place dramatically (to match the girlish yelp he just employed). "Is not the hallmark of a good leader. Use your words, Clementine, remember?" That's his best nanny-voice. Which is almost as good as his girlish-yelpy voice.

"You arrested my assistant." T'zaim gets an additional whack in the arm. Though in truth, none of these hits are really that hard. As in, she's not aiming to give him a bruise or anything. But at least she's using some of her words. :D

"Because she committed a crime! I thought that was your whole manifesto, woman!" Why, yes. T'zaim did just 'woman' Clementine. He shufflesteps away from the hitty goldrider, making slappy hands at her hands. A slapfight between Clem and Thez is even better than one between Wingleaders and Crafters.

"Oh please. She whacked that idiot Drex in the head, when she could have shot him. She prevented a worse crime from being committed." The slappy hands are returned, because this is just an extremely mature and adult way of handling this little scuffle. "You didn't even talk to her first. Just picked her up and tossed her in the brig, you talked to him beforehand. And he stabbed someone."

Slappy slappy grab, there. T'zaim snatches Clementine's hands outta the air and says, "Quit hitting me or I'm going to cry and tell D'cen on you." Cuz that's what D'cen needs on his plate right now. "And listen. If we arrest Drex and not Luciana, when everyone knows they're both ex-pirates and then word gets out that Luciana assaulted Drex, too, there's no denying that she's getting special treatment because you like her. It's bad enough that you called the guard off her and not Drex, you nut."

Since her intent isn't to kill T'zaim, it's not terribly difficult to prevent her from further slapping him about his body. "What word do you think is going to get out? The man has been very vocal about having stabbed someone. Do you think anyone is going be overly outraged that Luciana hit him in the head? And he needs double the guard. He should still be sitting in the brig." Clementine does look injured that he called her a nut, for all this petty squabbling back. It's then that she seeks to rescue her snatched hands, but it's to cross her arms this time, not to hit him again. At least that annoyance has passed and possibly, some of what he's said has sunken in.

"And I arrested him for it. Why in the world are you lecturing me about Drex when I did exactly what you wanted." It's not a real question, hence there being no question-mark, just T'zaim being miffed. "Contrary to what you may believe, you are not judge, jury, and executioner. If Luciana's actions were justified, then she'll take a walk on the charges, and you don't look like the asshole Weyrwoman that ordered the execution of one pirate and refused to arrest another just because you have a soft spot for her." He shoves his hands in his pockets and dusts off his stern voice. #SoThere

It might not be a question but…!! "I'm upset you made a big deal about questioning him beforehand, but she wasn't given that courtesy. I also don't see you suggesting that the guard should arrest every person that's hit another person. If that were the case, the Weyrlingmaster and Ocelot's Wingsecond would both be locked up forever after that little public beatdown they gave each other." Forever. That's an exaggeration, but Clementine can also have a flare for the dramatic now and again. Asshole Weyrwoman? Her eyebrows lift up and her voice drops. "Contrary to what you may believe, you're not the only who has valid points in this world. I listen to yours all the time, maybe you could try doing the same for me."

T'zaim takes a deep breath in through his nose, out through his mouth, and says, "I'm listening." Over the sound of his blood pounding in his ears, true, but go: Clementine has his undivided attention. He's not even walking anywhere.

From a distance: 'Get your map out of my face!' and 'Put that magnifying glass down!' - It's going just as well over there! They just had quite the exchange over the Drex/Luciana debate, so either Clementine believes her points have already been articulated or she just doesn't feel like repeating it all over again. She takes a deep breath before tightening her arms over her chest. "Sometimes I get the impression that you feel as if you're speaking with an irrational child." She chews on her lower lip before stuffing back something else and deciding against going there. Instead falling to silence again.

T'zaim mumbles, "You were hitting me…" But that's not the point! "I apologize for being patronizing." No arguments about it, 'cause he knows. "I do believe that you would benefit from a few deep breaths now and then, but I'll try not to be such a jackass about pointing it out in the future." There's a 'better?' brow-lift at the end.

Clementine has spent the last few moments not looking at T'zaim. He mumbles, then speaks and she glances in his direction to catch it before she cuts away again. With an exasperated sound, she blows a loose chunk of hair away from her eyes before reaching out and tapping him in the arm with her fist, light as a feather. "Fine. I apologize for cutting off your sandwiches in retaliation."

T'zaim takes the arm-punch without crying about it this time, just nods briskly and says, "Thank you, I'm sure that will go a long way toward improving my capability not to be snide. In the meantime." He looks off where his Wingleaders are getting way more animated with those Crafters than is probably good for politics, and suggests with a nod that Clementine should keep walking toward the Weyr, but… "I had better go collect my irrational children."

"Hey! Put that down!" - Sounds promising. T'zaim better hurry over there! Meanwhile, Clementine will suck in a breath and begin to head towards the pathway. But not before pausing to awkwardly make some hand motions and the suggestion of: "I'll meet you for dinner?" It comes as a question and she'll wait just long enough to pick up his response before clearing out ahead of the Crafters or Wingleaders descending upon her with grievances.

T'zaim throws a thumbs-up back at Clementine before picking up his pace and shouting, "Hands are for helping, not hitting!"

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