H'rik, Mayte


Mayte is still looking for that book, but visits H'rik in the Chambers while she's at it.


It is midmorning of the thirteenth day of the sixth month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.


Council Chambers

OOC Date 13 Nov 2017 07:00




Once disproportionately grandiose, the recent regimes have scaled the gaudy aura of Igen's council rooms down to better match the fit of the work executed within these walls. Spartan still, with foreboding stonework and a heavy wooden door, the innards of the room are swallowed by a giant round table, an ancient creation of fire-hardened wood carved with the three dunes of Igen. Comfortable chairs surround that monolith to authority, all similar but two, grandiose things left as memories of a past mentality. The walls are lined with elegant old tapestries, depicting scenes of ancient Igen glories

H'rik has decided to take his breakfast in the council chambers this morning. His plate is long since empty, only the crumbs of some toast and the lingering smell of bacon evidence that there was once food. His mug, however, is steaming with fresh hot klah, and the man absently sips as he peers down at a particular intriguing passage on the hide before him. A finger helps him keep his place along the line of tiny handwriting, and he hunches over to get his face closer to the table, mug tipping dangerously in his hand as the writing grabs his attention.

The doors to the Council Chambers are heavy, and they creak open as someone pushes her way through them - not some long, painful screech of iron on iron. Through the gap comes a short, dark-haired woman who moves into the Chambers with ease, turning her head to glance over the walls curiously, until looking back down to the man at the table: "Weyrleader H'rik. Benden brings greetings and congratulations." Her dark eyes are watching him curiously.

Rhiscorath thinks to you, « I bespoke Zsaviranth with: Seriously. Mayte could not find The Herder in the Manger with the Milkmaid in the Archives and I would like to nibble on it again and Igen has the only copy known to man and dragon. I am most put out. »

Rhiscorath thinks to you, « I bespoke Zsaviranth with: Rhiscorath thinks « I mean, the Herder in the Manger with the Milkmaid is housed in the Archives. The Milkmaid is with the Herder in the Manger. Or else it would be a very short book and not at all tasty. » »

The creaking of the heavy doors makes H'rik lift his head, and in that moment the mug tips juuust enough to spill a drop of dark klah on the hide. H'rik mutters under his breath as he straightens up and rubs a guilty thumb over the mark. "Shit." The curse is as quiet as he can manage, but in the big empty room, who knows who can hear it? Probably the person who's coming in through the open door; the person H'rik is now looking curiously at. It's a face he doesn't recognise, though her knot is unmistakeable and gives him the final clue to work out who she is. "Weyrwoman Mayte." His endless, boring reading has paid off - he's well aware that the woman is formerly Igen's Senior, and is now leading Benden Weyr. "Please do come in." He'll even stand, and move to the nearest chair round the table to pull it out.

Rhiscorath senses Zsaviranth thinks « Is that like the highly sought after Fortian Lord's Daughter's Manservant book? »

Sound does echo so well in these Chambers and Mayte doesn't miss the curse, grinning a little and moving closer to the table. "Thank you, I will." Given that she's already here. She does take the seat offered, her leathers creaking a little. "Well met, H'rik," and now her tone is more casual and so much freer, "How are you finding it so far?" Pulling off her gloves, Mayte lays them neatly to one side and settles back into the chair, "This is your first Weyrleader gig, right? You're pretty young for a first-timer." No judgement in her tone, though: "Means you'll have lots of time to learn the ropes."

Rhiscorath thinks to you, « I bespoke Zsaviranth with: Rhiscorath is quick to revise: « It is like it, but the roles are reversed, and it is a herder and a milkmaid. … in the Manger… » There doesn't seem to be any other difference that Rhis can point out, though. »

Zsaviranth will reveal Diem's secret hobby without shame. « There is an underground book club… Maybe THEY have the one and only copy… » (From Zsaviranth)

H'rik is gonna pretend like the first thing he said in front of another Weyr's Senior was a curse word. He'll focus on getting Mayte settled in the chair, and then he returns to his own, pulling it in a little so he can rest his hands on the table. If he shuffles this other hide a bit he can put it over the spreading stain on the one he was reading, all subtle-like. "There certainly is a lot to learn," he notes, with a small smile to indicate he doesn't mind this challenge too much. "So people keep telling me." But he's amused by the comment, rather than annoyed that Mayte is saying it, too. "How is Benden?" Because that seems a polite thing to ask.

Rhiscorath thinks to you, « I bespoke Zsaviranth with: Gasps. GASPS. « Mayte will speak with Diem, then. » Rhis decides, « and she shall see if this is true. » There's a bit of 'or else' for Rhis' rider in that message… »

Ah, yes. Igen's Book Club. « Mayte should join. » (From Zsaviranth)

So is Mayte, and she's also not looking down at what H'rik is shuffling back and forth on the table. Nope. "There is," she agrees gravely, "Even if you've been practicing and hoping since Weyrlinghood to become Weyrleader, the reality is so different from what you get." Her one-shoulder shrug is pretty sympathetic: "Diem'll help a lot too, so trust her. And have a good Weyrsecond. Even if it's a former Weyrleader." As for Benden? "It's good, thank you. Rhiscorath is enjoying the sand while we're here, though." Birdbaths and all. "K'svo is gearing up to come when he has a moment as well, but Rhiscorath really wanted some flaming book from the Archives so I came a bit early."

Everyone seems to have advice to give him! H'rik is certainly not adverse to it, nor fed up of hearing it yet. And that of a Senior Weyrwoman of two Weyrs, offering it for free? He's not gonna turn his nose up at it. "I can't say I was," he admits, with a wry smile, "but here I am. Thank you. The Weyrsecond is one thing I haven't sorted out yet." Is that a slightly guilty look for that admission? Yep, seems like it. He shuffles the top hide until it's in line with the stained one beneath it. "Ah - she was hatched here, so I suppose nothing can beat Igen sand for her?" He nods at the mention of K'svo, before the smile returns, beating out the guilty look, for the meaning of the trip. "It must be a very interesting book!"

Free? Yeah, we'll see. Ahem. Gravely, Mayte says, "Weyrseconds are important, and it's good to consider your options. K'svo had some trouble there once, so now I insist on having a say." K'svo probably has a different way of putting it, but be that as it may. "Yes," the Weyrwoman smiles, "She does love it when it's sandy here. You should have heard her the first time she realized that snow was not in fact some sort of cold sand." A light, inviting snicker, and then Mayte laughs more: "Not really - it's some stupid romance novel that we can't find anywhere else. Well, and Harper refuses to lend me anymore books." Anyways, Igen is not her show anymore: "How is Wendryth adjusting? The Wingleaders behaving themselves?"

H'rik looks interested that Mayte has made sure she gets some sway over Benden's Weyrsecond. Would Diem want to have a similar say in the matter here? He'll file that one away for a later date. "Hah," he laughs lightly at Rhiscorath's thoughts on snow. "Wendryth finds it quite fascinating himself, though we haven't spent as much time in it nowadays." He blinks a couple of times in surprise when it turns out that Mayte is after a romance novel. Not what he was expecting. "Oh. Well, hopefully it'll be here." Ummmm? Confused! But, to conversation he's slightly better at! "He's…loving it, actually. Seems like most bronzes are hatched to want to lead, I suppose." There's an affectionate eye roll for his dragon's attitude. "No funny business from the Wingleaders yet, but I'm trying not to give them any reason to cause trouble."

Mayte doesn't miss H'rik's expression and smirks a little: "It's a personal preference." AKA, Mayte thinks her nose belongs there so she makes it so. "Kihana, on the other hand, couldn't give a shit." Oooh, gossip from the Weyrwoman circle, though Mayte's poker face reveals little else about Kihana and Mayte's opinion. As for bronzes in charge? Mayte nods, smiling slightly, "They do like it, those bronzes. Their riders are the interesting side; just don't let them see you uncertain and they'll respect you." Like it's just that easy. Mayte's eyes roam long the walls again and she admits, "Diem's doing really good here, looks like. I never managed to get the staff to get this place so clean." Maybe because Mayte's infamous technique of yelling someone into submission only works so far. A little sigh and Mayte stands, taking up her gloves. "Well, Igen, I should probably let you get back to it," the paper work, she indicates with one waved hand.

Ah, gossip. Maybe H'rik will pass that bit about Kihana on to Diem. Or maybe not. Maybe it'll depend on whether he feels it will help or hinder the conversation with Igen's Senior. "Thanks." As easy as that! Mayte's advice on Wingleaders gets that grateful reply, and then, not knowing what to say next, he'll sit in silence and watch her as she observes the room. A hint of curiosity creeps into his expression, but this clears when Mayte speaks again, and it becomes apparent why she was looking around. "She has her ways, I suppose," is what he'll say of Diem. He'll stand as she does. "Well met, Mayte. Thank you the company. Now I don't have any excuse to keep working." He'll end with that and a smile. Working, trying to fix the stained hide, whichever!

A quick touch of fingers to Mayte's forehead in casual salute, "Thank you for accepting me into the Chambers." She says it like she ever considered there was any other option but that would be silly. A brief but wide grin: "There's never any end to the paperwork when you're leading a Weyr. Not even if you dragon likes to sleep on it." A pause, "Literally." One more quick salute and Mayte turns to stride out, calling over her shoulder, "I'll see Diem before we take off too," as she shuts the door behind her with one of those resounding bangs that, had the conversation not been genial, would have been taken as the end of a very fierce argument.

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