Who

Mayte, M'noq

What

Mayte and M'noq have a solemn conversation.

When

It is evening of the seventh day of the fifth month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

The War Room

OOC Date 01 Mar 2018 07:00

 

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The War Room

Within this room there is a constant buzz, a low-pitched thrum of activity no matter the time of day — or night. Here are the records for the current leadership, and pertinent information for the time: inventories and star-charts, ledgers and tithe manifests and wing records. Such valuable information is kept twice-watched by two disparate forces: a guard at the door and the archivist at his table, and none quite sure which of the two is more dangerous.


The stupid rain is outside being stupid, which is how it always is in Southern this time of Turn. M'noq came in to work and check on a couple of charts, but that was a candlemark or two ago. The area on the table in front of him is cluttered with papers and things, but the Lynx wingleader stares up at the ceiling, maybe considering a spinner up there or some smudge left by a clumsy firelizard. At any rate, it doesn't look like any work is being done.

You know what helps work? Someone sitting across from you, working harder than you. Mayte comes into the room, a pot and a mug of klah in hand and under the other arm, a bunch of scrolls. The room is pretty quiet so Mayte of course gravitates to standing in front of M'noq. "How's it going, M'noq?" she asks cheerfully, a counterpart to the weather.

M'noq tilts his head to look at Mayte, though he doesn't look any more inclined to do any work. "Been better," he says, then flickers a look back up at the ceiling. "You know when you have things you're supposed to do and they have to get done, but you really can't bring yourself to believe that any of this shit matters, and mostly you want to walk out of here and go somewhere else, but you don't really have anywhere else to go? Something like that."

So the unnatural cheerful act won't work. Dropping the klah off, Mayte sits down across from the Wingleader and watches him, hands laced over her stomach. "Yep," she says simply. A few moments of quiet pass and then Mayte adds, "except my Assistant is in my head, and I can't play hooky on her." A little shrug and Mayte scootches her chair back so she can lean it back and brace one foot on the table to 0% Harpers' delight. "Then… what's keeping you here?" she wonders vaguely, though her dark eyes are focused on M'noq, whether he's looking to her or not.

"I don't want to go back to my weyr," M'noq answers, after a moment of hesitation. Then the silence will hang there again, if Mayte will let it, before he adds, "K'vvan. You know K'vvan, right? He's unhappy. Well, more unhappy than usual. And he has been for a while." It isn't a moody snit, it isn't a temporary falling out. It's like a cloud that surrounds and insulates him from the outside world.

A small furrow creases between Mayte's eyebrows. She shifts in her chair for a moment, inhaling but she doesn't open her mouth to interrupt. "I do know K'vvan," Mayte says when it doesn't seem like M'noq will elaborate, her voice low and solemn. The foot adjusts and Mayte breathes out, considering. Then, "How is Nadeeth doing?" Though Mayte's voice is steady, the green's name is like gold on her tongue.

M'noq's concern becomes a little more worried. "She draws back. Gets protective of him. Even Ravaith can't get through to her much, though he's not the best reader of moods." The brown is much more cerebral and academic, and it's difficult for him to take on any emotions. "You were with him, though, weren't you? Back when…?" He waves a hand as if he can point out some distant location in the past. "It's awful, seeing him so unhappy, and being able to do nothing for him."

Mayte purses her lips and nods shortly at M'noq's comment of Nadeeth. Almost absently, she admits, "It's hard not to feel protective of K'vv." Worrying her lower lip between teeth, Mayte looks to her untouched klah as if it has secrets but M'noq's comment on her history with the greenrider gives him, for a moment, an entirely surprised goldrider: "Wha? Oh!" she coughs for a second in embarrassment, "We… Faranth. K'vv and I were better friends than anything else." For a moment, Mayte stares at the wall behind M'noq and then, "Nadeeth was the first dragon I ever really met."

M'noq just hums, his expression growing a bit darker. "I know what you mean. The first time I had a real conversation with him, I was trying to protect him from someone. Or, I thougth I was, anyway." A lot of misundstandings in that. Her embarassment makes him smile sympathetically, though. "I didn't mean to imply anything too intimate. I heard you were friends," he amends, a change of implication. "Nadeeth is so sweet. K'vvan would fall apart with out her."

Mayte huffs a bit; not quite a laugh but more than a breath: "He needs something like it though," she observes. It's been so long with so many experiences between. "When I moved to Benden, I hoped he'd come by once in a while. But… I didn't know early on how bad it was for him." Nadeeth though, "Oh, she is. She was so excited when Rhiscorath was smaller than her. K'vv… not so much." The shrug is a little absent, "Wou… No." she schools herself, "Moreso than the rest of us, from my memory" and forgive Mayte if she's a little plaintive.

"Maybe he needs someone now to protect him from me," M'noq mulls, for all that there is no value in pursuing that path. He arches a brow as Mayte almost asks him a question, but not enough of it escapes for him to know what it was. "You know, I used to always confide in Clementine, before she left for Reaches. I miss her too." A long list of people he misses, who have drifted away. "I still don't know… I guess I need to go home eventually, though." The ship weyr is his home, and he doesn't have anywhere else to go.

Mayte's gaze to the wall sharpens as it focuses more on M'noq. For all that she's fire and brimstone, the goldrider can be prudent now and again: "Is that you saying, or what you think he's saying?" is the question she actually asks this time but it doesn't seem like Mayte is looking for a full response. She listens to M'noq's memory of Clementine, huffing a little again, neither an agreeing or a pitying noise. After a long moment of silence, Mayte's mouth quirks into a shadow of a smile: "It always seems like nothing is permanent, except the work. And Thread." Her gaze doesn't shy from M'noq's, weighing her next thoughts carefully. "M'noq…" and for such a bombastic woman, Mayte's tone is soft, "Did you hear about J’se, at Benden?"

M'noq draws a deep breath and exhales, considering the nature of permanence. "Yet even the work changes. And Thread… well, one day it will end for us. If we live to see that." Another thing that he and K'vvan would debate… what good are dragonriders in a time without Thread? The Weyrwoman's question makes M'noq pause. "That was a strange story, wasn't it? A lost rider at Benden? That was about the time I was made wingleader, or maybe a bit before… there was a lot of talk about it."

Mayte doesn't seem perturbed by Thread ending, or Thread ending her. Her eyes search M'noq for his answer. That he's heard of it? Mayte nods. "J'se was…" this time the huff is definitely amusement at least, "J'se was the thorn in my fucking side, the first few Turns I was at Benden. He was the life of every party Benden had, and we couldn't stand each other, nor Lakevolth and Rhis." Picking up the now cold klah, Mayte doesn't drink it, "But then, he just… went *between*. We hadn't talked, he was still Weyrsecond… but he just went away. And I'd never asked if he was okay. Never bothered." Regret is a language, and Mayte is speaking it. "Is it strange that I miss him?" Suddenly as if prodded, she rouses a little out of her reminiscence: "Anyway, what I'm saying is, we can only help as best we can. And sometimes even that's not enough, but if you or Ravaith think he and Nadeeth are spiralling, let me know." Mayte watches M'noq carefully, "Rhis can talk to Nadeeth and I know K'vv hates healers but…" an unhappy shrug explains the rest of that.

M'noq listens to the story, a far more personal version than the gossip that had flown across Pern at the time. "I'm sorry for your loss," he says, even as he puzzles over what must have filled the missing man's head. "I will try to keep an eye on him. He gets in moods where he never talks, but sometimes Nadeeth will reach out to Ravaith." If she is able. Well, they will just have to do their best. And with another sigh, M'noq begins to gather up his papers, separating out the charts to be refiled. "I guess I should head back and see what I'm facing. Thank you for listening, Mayte. And for your advice." He looks at her, hesitating, then turns away to put up the charts.

Mayte's smile is a misnomer but she nods: "Thank you… for letting me know." She pauses before adding, "Rhis will pay attention too. She's always kept a corner of the library for Nadeeth. And I'll try to catch him too, alright?" She doesn't try to stop M'noq but for a moment, Mayte grins: "Someone once told me, he's bitchy and neurotic and anti-social, but we love him anyhow, in our own ways." A nod to both her history with the greenrider, and M'noq's. Before the brownrider turns away, Mayte's lower lip tenses and her request is soft, "Let me know?" Because M'noq is no longer alone in this too, and while he goes to face K'vv at home, it's many candlemarks before Mayte sleeps too.

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