Diem, Amani


Southern's youngest weyrwoman seeks out Igen's Senior to ask a small favor.

EXTREMELY back-dated!


It is midmorning of the sixteenth day of the ninth month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.


Galleries, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 20 Dec 2017 07:00


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"What brings you to Igen today?"



Though occasionally cleaned by ambitious (or neurotic) drudges or weyrbrats being disciplined, the lack of Eggs over the last several Turns has led to the Galleries falling into a state of disrepair. Sand can be found…well, everywhere. On the benches, under the benches, on the railings and walkways. There is also the random tidbit leftover from people who've wandered into the gathering place since the last cleaning. A random bit of cloth here, a bit of something that might have been a carving-in-progress once there.

Amani has been back to Igen a few times now, Zymuraith’s white-bonfire and spiced-caramel autumn breezes a greeting likely somewhat familiar to any dragons with longer memories. The visits have been strictly casual thus far, however - a former daughter stopping by on family, so to speak. It’s something she intends for any time she stops by; however, there’s some business driving her today, so her first stop is in the North Bowl, with the young Southern queen giving Zsaviranth a far more focused greeting than a simple, formal announcement of her presence. She knows whose home this is…and the state Igen’s senior is currently in. It’s why Amani heads for the galleries rather than the council chamber, entering with an almost reverential quiet and looking about the whole of the cavern itself while also searching for the Weyrwoman herself.

The foreign autumn breeze, though sweet smelling and comforting in its way, is met with a slightly stronger gust of herbaceous white sage that acknowledges the young Southern queen's greeting. Zsaviranth's senses are heightened as her thirty-eight eggs are days away from hatching and Diem is glued to the sands with very little hope of venturing beyond the galleries. It's a slight change in scenery, but the Weyrwoman is seated upon a stone bench near the front railing of the stands — where her lifemate can clearly see her — when Amani makes her physical presence known. The movement in Diem's peripheral vision causes her to look in the junior weyrwoman's direction.

As Amani’s gaze falls upon Zsaviranth’s clutch, she can’t help but smile a little, memories of how momentous it was to be out on Southern’s sands flickering through her mind. She’ll likely never be able to visit any Weyr’s galleries without feeling that, she thinks. Then she feels eyes on her and looks back to the benches to find Diem - for that’s the only person it could be from that vantage - regarding her. The desert-bred junior moves closer, dropping a curtsy once she’s within speaking distance. “Good afternoon, Weyrwoman. I’m Amani of Zymuraith, visiting from Southern. Our regards to Zsaviranth.” Which Zymuraith has rendered, of course, but it’s always good to do from both quarters. She glances back out at the sands again with another smile, genuine and warm. “It’s a beautiful clutch.”

“Igen's best to Southern.” Diem returns the greeting with a nod of gratitude. “And thank you. They're close to breaking shell, I think. Zsaviranth won't tell me.” The senior queen is quite private and holds very tight to secrets that she keeps — this, of course, is nothing new to Diem. A hand lifts and motions to the stone bench beside her in invitation to sit should Amani desire. “May I offer you some water? I've plenty to serve, although I can't guarantee that it's ice cold.” Nothing stays cold in this area for very long as the heat radiates from the sands.

Amani does sit, smirking as Diem relates the secretive nature of her own lifemate. “That’s something Zymuraith would appreciate,” the younger goldrider notes. “She won’t always tell me things but expects me to go along with it anyway. And yes, I’ll take some water.” Cold or not, it never goes amiss in such a hot environment. She glances around the cavern again and gives a little shake of her head. “I spent half a Turn here and never got up the courage to make it this far. Now I can’t believe I was ever afraid.”

Diem twists to gather a cup and a pitcher of water whose ice cubes have long sense melted. The tray is right beside her for easy access and she pours while listening to Amani speak. “Ah, yes.” The drink is then handed to the fellow goldrider right before she pours a cupful for herself. “I’ve heard how you once lived here in the desert. Do you have a connection with the Reika?” Curious eyes peer over the cup as it’s tilted back for a hearty swig, Onari’s family drawing to the surface of her thoughts as she considers the caravan family.

“The Zingari, actually,” Amani replies, accepting the water with a nod of thanks and promptly taking a sip. “I was a guard for them, briefly, before I ended up Searched. I was at Kurkar before I came here.” She gives a little shake of her head, her expression ruefully wry. “The Weyr was somewhere to be suspicious of for a long time. I was still warming up to it. That’s why I never made it in here.” But she did make it as far as the lake shore a time or two, at least!

The background of the newly minted junior weyrwoman is becoming clear as Diem listens to the given explanation. Another sip of water is taken before she speaks again, “Zingari. Yes. I couldn’t recall which caravan you were associated with,” A beat, “You’ll find that when Zymuraith has her first clutch your mind will be pulled in a thousand directions.” As hers is now. It’s not something that can be avoided, especially when the overall welfare of an entire Weyr rests upon their shoulders. Perhaps there should be vodka in her cup rather than water… Still, Diem returns her focus to Amani and studies the young woman’s expression for a moment as a brief silence falls between them. “You’re not much older than I was when I Impressed at Fort.”

Amani’s brows arch high at that. “It doesn’t get…easier at all? I would’ve thought being sands-bound would allow for a little more time to focus on things we might otherwise push aside.” It seems she has some reevaluating to do. On the other hand, she has no idea how Zymuraith is going to be as a clutchmother yet, or even how she’ll be proddy. The learning certainly isn’t anywhere near done yet!

Diem’s last brings the younger woman’s eyes back to her from Zsaviranth’s eggs. “Where were you Searched from? What were you before?”

Diem shakes her head, “It’s been my experience that I normally have more to think about while I am sands bound. Are the tithes accounted for, what am I really missing from admin meetings, how is the Weyrleader coexisting with my juniors, those sort of things.” Tawny colored eyes blink and she seems to shake herself from the reality of her station by chuckling a little afterward. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to paint such a tense picture of being a clutch-mother. It has its advantages.” But, she doesn’t delve into those at the moment. Instead, she crosses one leg over the other and casts her gaze toward the ceiling of the galleries as she recalls her past.

It’s a tender subject, her past. Riddled with strife and unanswered questions regarding her missing father from the Bazaar when she was a young teenager. How she was sent away to Healer Hall to escape the Akzhan family, how she never heard from her father to this very day… All of this rattles in her mind, though none of it is revealed by her expression. A breath is inhaled through her nose and exhaled quietly when her gaze falls upon Southern’s junior once again with a faint smile curving the corners of her lips. “Fort Hold, Healer Hall. I was a senior apprentice and seventeen Turns when I stood for the queen egg at Fort Weyr. It was my first and last candidacy.”

Amani’s lips press into a slightly thinner line of contemplation as Diem lists off what she deals with while sands-bound. More time to worry is what it seems like, but then the Igen Senior is apologizing for putting it in that light, and the younger goldrider can’t help but smirk, giving a little shake of her head. There’s no telling what exactly her own experiences are going to be like, after all, and she can content herself with that.

Diem’s reply to her last earns a small smile before she sips some more at her water. “Was it intimidating for you? Going from a Crafthall to a Weyr?”

“No, not really. I was born at Igen and grew up in the Bazaar until I was fourteen.” Diem offers the information if someone asks, but is otherwise quiet about her former life. “It wasn’t a difficult adjustment to make. It was more difficult transitioning from Bazaar brat to Craft hall, especially at Fort. They have a different culture there.” And it’s a completely different world from gritty Igen! Clearing her throat ever slightly, Diem shifts the conversation from herself to Amani. “What brings you to Igen today? Are you visiting the Zingari?”

The revelation that Diem is also an Igenite is a bit of a surprise to Amani, yet it fits. There is something about the Igen Senior that seems to embody the desert Weyr effortlessly. She nods to the other goldrider’s reply, understanding the culture shock quite well, if not the exact situation. At Diem’s question, Amani nods and swallows her latest sip of water. “Yes, but it’s not the main reason I came. Southern has a bit of a problem with a glow shortage, and I was wondering if Igen might be willing to help.” She tilts her head slightly in a northerly direction. “I remembered there being mention of a glow cavern in the Central Range Caves. Perhaps we might be able to scrounge a bit there? I wouldn’t ask to dip into the Weyrs own stores…”

“Mmn.” Diem is thoughtful as she takes a slow sip of water from her cup. Amani’s request and mention of Southern’s glow shortage jogs memory of a previous dilemma the jungle Weyr once faced. “I haven’t checked our current supply of glows from that cave system,” It’s more Nasrin’s job these days. “But I don’t foresee a problem giving you our excess.” In fact, it’s been an age since she’s personally been to the glow cavern where the majority of Igen’s supply comes from. “I’ll give clearance and my junior can oversee the mining of glows for Southern since I am unable to leave just yet.” Upon the sand, Zsaviranth rumbles as if to emphasize her lifemate’s statement — Diem won’t be going anywhere! “Is everything alright at Southern?” Because now curious minds want to know.

Well that was easier than Amani had anticipated. Asking for help is often much less complicated than might be expected, as she’s finding out more and more. There are always exceptions, but relations between Igen and Southern are pretty smooth, and thank Faranth for it. “Thank you,” she says with a dip of her head. “You’d think shortages wouldn’t happen down there, the environment and land being as they are…” But there’s no accounting for the unforeseen, of course. The question about the state of things at Southern earns a smirk. “Oh, it has its intrigues. Meaning everything is fine for the moment.” Sobering a bit, she adds, “It’s been a bit…hectic, with Hannah leaving. And now Mayte is there and recovering, but it’s good to have her. She’ll be a huge help.”

Diem lifts her cup a tad to complement the acceptance of gratitude, an almost ‘cheers’ like gesture. “You’re welcome. Igen will assist whenever we can.” A sip of water follows as Amani explains the current state of Southern Weyr and Diem smiles afterward. “Mayte is a gem. Perhaps Nasrin and I can venture down in the near future.” To pay a visit to fellow goldriders and to take a break from the impending winter weather at Igen. There’s a half smile when she contemplates a much simpler life, but that is only wishful thinking outside the reality of managing an entire Weyr. “You’ll find that the dust never really settles from all that happens around you, Amani. A lot of it will be out of your control, and asking for help will get easier.” Sliding back a bit, Diem turns her entire body to face the fellow goldrider and to sit cross legged upon the stone bench. The pitcher of water is then snagged so she can refill her glass and Amani’s if she’d like. “Now tell me about your Zymuraith. What is she like?” The grin that follows is genuine as she settles in to learn more about Southern’s youngest queen.

There’s scarcely a day that goes by when Amani doesn’t end up realizing the truth of what Diem says more and more. She nods to the prospect of a visit from both of Igen’s goldriders, the thought that four of them together, being Igen bred or ingrained in the desert Weyr for so long, might cause murmurings about trouble brewing bringing a pleased smirk to her lips. Then Diem is turning the topic of conversation to Zymuraith, and how can she not talk about her lifemate. Complex creature that Pern’s second-largest queen is, it will certainly take a while to try explaining what she’s like…and probably several more glasses of water besides.

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